


Tied Fingers, Best Lies

by thelittlelioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, LGBTQ Characters, Multi, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelioness/pseuds/thelittlelioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley is dragged into the ceaseless drama surrounding her friends and cousins who can't figure out how to make healthy romantic decisions. Somehow she's gonna have to knock some sense into them before they screw up even further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 31st

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from "Feeling Sorry" by Paramore.

Let it be known that the Weasleys loved parties. And how could they not, with so many branches and extensions connecting them all into one? They had beach parties, pool parties, house parties, holiday parties of every sort, you name it. Trust Rose Weasley to throw their first boat party.

Rose had been in the water at a very young age, compelling her parents in her three-year-old way to take trips to the nearest beaches as often as possible. She was canoeing and kayaking by six, despite the fact that Teddy and Victore always beat her in races due to their age-bred superior muscles. Back then, she gained a powerful ally in Al Potter, her cousin, who always paired up with her despite the fact that they always lost.

Rose could have been a swimming prodigy, and she was, but she lacked the interest. Where was the fun if she couldn't do it with her plethora of cousins? She spent more and more of her swimming time playing Quidditch with the family until it replaced swimming altogether. Her speed, quite a remarkable thing, made her a shoo-in for the chaser position, though she enjoyed keeping more.

All of which was to say that Rose loved the water. She felt at home in both salt and chlorine, waves and diving boards. It wasn't at all surprising that she had been looking forward to New Years more than Christmas for her hostess debut.

The waves rolled up and down, away from the boat. The sunset sky colored the sea in shades of red and orange and purple, contrasted by the white froth closest to the boat.

“So where, exactly, did you learn to sail?” asked one of the Scamander twins. Rose never could tell them apart without their Hogwarts uniforms; Lorcan had always worn his Prefect badge on his robes while Lysander was never seen without his yellow and black scarf, even on the most humid of hot summer days.

“A Muggle summer camp that my Grandpa Arthur read about. That was the year James ran away for ten months. It wasn’t pretty when he returned, so I got as far away as possible. Al stayed with Malfoy for the summer, I think.”

“So none of this is done by magic?”

“I’m not seventeen yet,” she laughed. “That would be illegal. I like doing it the Muggle way.”

Scamander nodded. An overhead light turned on unexpectedly, followed by a cry of “Sorry!” coming from Rose’s good friend Violet.

A Muggle-born, Violet had been heavily influenced by her actor parents growing up. Her mom had even participated in a Tony Award-winning production. Violet spent nearly all of her free time as a child involved with her community theatre, but the onset of an anxiety disorder had caused her to gravitate to the more technical side of theatre. These days, she was obsessed with it, often taking trips down to her community theater's rehearsals to help out; when they got the boat, the lighting and sound control room had been her first stop.

“It’s fine,” Rose called back as Violet chose a lighting selection at a less ridiculous level of brightness.

In the light, Rose could see that Scamander had light freckles dancing across his nose. Only one of the twins had them, and Rose thought it was Lorcan, but it could have been Lysander—

“Is this boat yours?” Maybe-Lorcan asked.

“No, no,” she answered, explaining, “James was trying to convince my dad to buy me one for my birthday, probably so he can borrow it for parties. Dad isn’t budging though. He spent many years with not more than a roof over his head and a Chudley Cannons poster on his bedroom wall, and just because we’ve got money now doesn’t mean he’s going to spend it lavishly.” Rose shrugged. She didn’t have a problem mentioning her family’s wealth because people already expected it. Her parents were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger; having money was implied in the name, now recognizable in any household of the Wizarding World, near and far alike.

“It’s not too important to me,” she continued, “but having my own boat would be nice. Between you and me, I think Dad’s gonna crack. After all, I am his ‘baby girl.’”

As she talked, Rose moved around the boat, setting up the food table. She set out sodas, Butterbeer, and a few bottles of Firewhiskey and mead snatched from her parents’ liquor cupboard. Scamander helped her arrange cheese and crackers, fruit, chips, cupcakes, and the best assortment of candies from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes on the table as well.

Rose looked around, surveying her work. The decorations were minimal since the boat was rented, but they were enough. Her parents, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, Luna and Rolf, Uncle George and Aunt Angelina, and Uncle Charlie were upstairs, laughing and talking. It was an extension of the large Christmas party they’d had not a week before. The rest of them, all teens and twentysomethings, took over the deck, milling around and spiking their sodas.

Molly and Lucy and their parents had yet to show up, but that was normal since Uncle Percy insisted upon being fashionably late to any occasion. Albus, on the other hand, was unusually late. He usually came early because, even though they had classes together and saw each other _all the time_ , he never turned down an opportunity to pay Rose a visit.

(Some of the adults liked to call them siblings even though they weren’t; others called them partners in crime, which didn't work because neither of them fit the bill. Rose _never_ got in trouble, and Al was unusually tame for a Potter. His antics usually had something to do with playing dirty in Quidditch or planning mild pranks against his cousins with Malfoy.)

The sun had just disappeared beneath the horizon when the the Percy and Audrey gang arrived, followed directly by Al and...Scorpius Malfoy. Rose had left to undock the boat and set sail, so when she returned (Fred, who’d attended the camp with her, at the wheel), she had to do a double take. There weren’t many blondes at a Weasley gathering, and those were usually only Fleur and Bill’s children.  

Frowning, she addressed her cousin. “You know, Al, when I said you could bring a plus one, I meant your girlfriend. Where’s Emilie?”

“Oh. We broke up,” he told her flatly. They would talk about it later, Rose was sure, but this was not the time.

“I’m sorry.” Maybe it wouldn’t have surprised her if she hadn’t seen Al and Emilie acting perfectly normal at Christmas. It hadn't seemed like anything was wrong, but things were always different behind closed doors. Growing up in a family as large as hers taught Rose that quickly.

To cheer him up, she added, “Is this your way of telling me you’re dating Malfoy now? How _Romeo and Romeo_ of you.”

Al barked out a laugh. “You can check my porn collection if you don’t believe that I don’t swing that way.” Rose rolled her eyes at that obvious ‘no homo.’ “Can’t say the same about Scorp here, though.” Al pulled Malfoy into a friendly side-hug.

“If this is where the conversation is heading, I need to be more drunk than I am for this.” He walked over to the refreshments stand, somehow still looking polite as he grabbed a shot glass.

“You’re not drunk, Scorp,” Al stated.

“Exactly,” he called back and downed the Firewhiskey.

As the favorite cousin of Malfoy’s best friend, Rose knew he was bisexual. It wasn’t really that much of a touchy subject, from what she had been told, but he didn’t like to talk about it. Not surprising that Scorpius’ status-obsessed family had expressed disappointment, much as Draco had apparently straightened out.

“Is James here?” asked Al as Scorpius grabbed a Butterbeer and made his way back to them. Rose had hoped he wouldn’t ask that; she knew how close the two brothers had been.

“I didn’t invite him.”

Al’s face fell. “Oh. Right.”

James was the resident black sheep of the Potter-Weasley extended family. It was the fame, they said, the special attention. From the second he was born, the world expected so much from him, especially as Harry Potter’s first born child. When he became captain and star player of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the world held its breath, waiting for James to either hit it big or crash and burn like one of those Muggle Hollywood stars.

James was a fantastic chaser, as good an athlete as his parents had been, but he wasn’t interested in playing professionally. He cracked from the pressure and ran away as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts.  

James’ relationship with his parents had been destroyed, but Al and Lily still held hope that their brother would figure himself out. Rose pitied them, and she was thankful Hugo had a good head on his shoulders.

Rose heard stiletto heels approaching, and when she turned around, Violet was pulling Rose off to the side.

“What is Malfoy doing here? I thought this was a friends and family-only party!”

“He came with Al,” Rose answered. “I can’t kick him out. He’s Al’s friend, there, that works.”

“I’d expect the daughter of Hermione Granger not to be prejudice against Malfoys just because of the name,” Teddy Lupin said, sneaking up close.

“Teddy!” Rose gave him a giant bear hug worthy of Grandma Molly. “You made it!”

“I came with Victore and her family. She’s getting us drinks.” He leaned in. “So why do you hate that pretty face over there?”

“Scorpius is obnoxious. He’s arrogant like his father and think’s he’s charming in a gentlemanly way, but—”

“—and he makes perfect scores on pretty much every assignment he touches. He and Rosie Red are the smartest in the school, excluding Ravenclaws of course.That’s the real reason she hates him,” Al added, joining Rose and Teddy.

Scorpius followed and said, “You talking about me, Weasley? Only good things, I hope.”

“You can only put the words ‘good’ and ‘Scorpius Malfoy’ together if there’s a negation in the sentence,” Rose retorted.

Scorpius rolled his eyes and smirked. He was used to this coming from Rose. She was just jealous of his test scores. It was amusing, really.

~

Hours later, the party was still going strong as midnight creeped upon them. Al had disappeared with Violet, so the two people she most wanted weren’t around.

Rose wasn’t much of a partier, anyway. She always enjoyed Teddy’s parties, but maybe that was just because she just enjoyed his company. And his music taste. And it didn’t help that his girlfriend was excellent at mixing drinks.

Rose stirred her Butterbeer. Victore had added something—strawberry and rose, specially for her—that made her drink so delectable Rose almost didn’t want to drink it.

Rose had taken a shift of steering the boat. Fred deserved a break, and she didn’t have anything better to do.

It was a bit chilly out there; the wind had a bite to it. Luna was currently based in the southern United States, so it was _hot_ , much more so than Rose was used to it being in the winter. They set sail from South Carolina as the last leg of their holiday in America. Rose was dressed for winter, yes, but she had naively left her cloak and Gryffindor scarf on land.

“Need this?” a voice quietly asked in the darkness. Rose tore her gaze from the waves to see Scorpius offering a fluffy mint green blanket to her.

“There’s a pile of them inside,” he explained.

Rose wordlessly took the blanket, blushing from the cold.

Uninvited, Scorpius took a seat next to Rose. The plush bench was damp from the sea spray. He took a sip of his drink and made a sour expression.

“Americans make tea weirdly.”

“Tea?”

“Al gave it to me. He’s quite good at looking after me, actually. I’ve got to apparate back home to England soon and I can’t have Mum seeing me drunk, can I?”

“Didn’t you turn seventeen a month ago?” They didn’t talk about his belated party, in which everyone got wasted and trashed the Slytherin common room the last night before Christmas holiday. They were all nearly forced to stay at Hogwarts instead of departing to their respective homes, but, you know, Potters and Weasleys and a Malfoy. Sometimes powerful surnames came in handy. “How come you can apparate so well already?”

“Did you forget who you were taking to?”

“Right,” she said, matching his smirk. “Mr. Overachiever. Why do you care so much?”

“I’ve got to make my own way. The Malfoy name has a hefty reputation. I’ve got to prove them wrong. You?”

“I like learning—guess that's thanks to my mum. But, yeah, it's nice to know that whatever my future is, at least I'll earn it and not have it handed to me on a silver platter."

“Sure. As long as you don’t take what you have for granted.”

Rose peered at him, eyes narrowed and curious. “Are you calling me ungrateful?”

“No, not at all,” Scorpius languidly corrected.

“—because that would be James, who stole 25,000 galleons and double that in Muggle money from his parents when he ran away.”

“How can you talk about that so easily? He’s your family.”

“James made his message clear when he left everything and everyone he loved, twice. He doesn't want anything to do with 'family.'"

“Will things ever be able to go back to normal?”

Rose sighed. She wasn’t really up to this kind of heavy conversation, and she didn’t know why Malfoy was interested, but she continued nonetheless. “Maybe, but it’s between James and his parents. You know, he taught me most everything I know about Quidditch. I love him, but I don’t want to involve myself in any drama.”

“I understand. At my party, your cousin Louis tried to get Lily to mediate his fight with Lysander Scamander. Al and I were hanging out with her. She did her best, but you Weasleys are difficult. I don’t even remember what they were fighting about anymore, but Louis was unbelievably stubborn. Must be a Weasley trait.”

Rose’s mouth quirked. She remembered arguments between her parents that were more amusing than anything else because they were always about something stupid and both her mum and dad were unrelenting. “Must be why we’re all so good at Quidditch.”

“I’d wager that the Potters are better. And you cannot forget how good my father was.”

“Maybe this is just Weasley propaganda, but from what I’ve been told, your dad bought his way onto the team, and all of his wins were because he could afford better brooms."

"Alright, you got me there. He’s honest about his accomplishments now, if that helps. Not the same person he was when he was young, you know.”

Rose nodded. “I know.” After a pause, she asked, “Do you know why Al and Emilie broke up?”

“He cheated on her.” Scorpius’ voice was thick and heavy.

Rose let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and sat back. “With Violet.”

Scorpius looked up at her, his head tilted the slightest degree. “How did you know about that?”

Rose groaned. It all made sense now. “Violet spent most of Christmas with her family, but she popped in for a few hours to give out presents to me and Al and some of our other cousins. Then she stayed over on Boxing Day and both of them were acting strange. They’re both weird people, so I thought it was nothing.” Rose seethed. “Fuck, they’re probably shagging right now.”

“And here I thought Al was smarter than that. Slytherin revenge bites. I’ve been on the receiving end of Em’s vengeance before, and I would not wish that on anyone."

“Maybe Al inherited my dad’s impulsiveness,” Rose suggested, rubbing her face. “I don’t know what he was thinking. He’s been in love with Emilie for a year. Violet’s great, but she doesn’t make his face light up everytime he sees her.”

They heard sloshy footsteps approach. “Hey, guys,” Al said, slurring only slightly. He sat on a bench opposite Rose and Scorpius. “It’s going to be midnight soon.”

“Yeah, I can hear,” Rose said tiredly. She heard loud Weasley shouts and softer ones (Molly, Lucy, Louis, Roxanne) trying to arrange everyone. Hugo, no doubt, was probably setting up the countdown. Soon enough the noise pollution increased in volume…

Ten! Nine! Eight!

“Kiss!”

Seven!

"Are you crazy?"

“Me and Malfoy?!”

Six! Five!

“Yeah! You two would be so cute together. Like, a _Romeo and Juliet_ romance.”

“He’s drunker than I thought,” Rose muttered to Scorpius. Then, to her cousin: “First of all, if you’re going to reference Shakespeare, do it right. There is nothing romantic about that story. It lasted for four days and six people died."

Four! Three! Two!

“They still loved each other,” Albus mused.

“Second, is that really what you want? Your two best friends, dating?”

One!

“Guess not...you guys would argue too much.”

Scorpius snorted. “He’s not wrong.”

Zero!

 


	2. January 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day back at Hogwarts from winter holidays, and Rose and Scorpius are assigned to be partners for Prefects' patrols.

“I mean it, kiddo. You better get your grades up or your dad is going to send you a Howler!”

“Oh, don’t listen to George. I couldn’t be prouder of you than I am already.”

Rose beamed and stuck her tongue out at her uncle. “So there,” she teased.

Ron and Harry were away on an important Auror mission, so Uncle George and Aunt Angelina offered to send the four of them back to school along with his own children.

Lily was reapplying her berry-colored lip gloss—she had to be picture-perfect to see her boyfriend again, after all—and explaining to Hugo the benefits of her new high-end nail varnish. (The color was all wrong on her and she would give it to him free of charge if he did her laundry for the next month. The poor bloke was actually considering it.)

Al, having already said his goodbyes to his mum and the other adults, had boarded the train to find Scorpius before his best friend had to report to the prefect meeting.

“I think I’ll send dad and Uncle Harry a letter later this week. They’re in Singapore, right?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. Just be sure to give Andy some extra love and attention when he returns from the trip.” She ruffled her daughter’s owl’s feathers through the cage Rose was holding.

“I will. I love you, mum.” They hugged tightly, and Rose was thankful to have a good relationship with her parents. Rose then hugged her uncle and aunts and joined her cousins and classmates on the Hogwarts Express.

Rose wandered through the train, wheeled trunk dragging from one hand, owl in the other. Violet poked her head out of a compartment, waving to Rose, who maneuvered her luggage into the small room quickly so as to prevent corridor traffic.

Roxanne, who was currently playing with her cat, Clara, was in the compartment as well. Al’s stuff was there too, but he was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, only Roxanne had taken a seat by the window, so Rose moved to sit across from her.

Rose people-watched for a few minutes, gazing at the kids who barely got to the platform in time to make the train and first years saying goodbye to their families, parents going back for second and third and fourth hugs.

Al entered the compartment, chocolate frog in hand, and stepped over various pieces of luggage to sit down. “Rosie, you should probably head over now.” He snapped off the chocolate leg and handed it over to her. “For the dementors, just in case.”

“Thanks.” Rose oozed sarcasm but ate the chocolate. She smoothed her (unsmoothable) curly red hair and glanced down at her robes to double-check that her Prefect badge was still securely fastened to it.

When she had maneuvered around rushing students and arrived at the meeting room, she stood with the other Gryffindor Prefects: Will Wood, Thomas Brown, Anderson Hughes, and the two Longbottom sisters, Alice and Abby. She smiled, thinking back on patrols with Alice during first term.

Carl Baker, Hufflepuff, and Ruthie Marling, Ravenclaw, called roll, noting that everyone was present. It was refreshing that the neither of the heads this year were in Gryffindor or Slytherin for the first time since Rose’s second year; Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were generally tamer as a whole.

Marling and Baker zipped through protocol, welcoming everyone back from break and explaining the house switch for first-time Prefects. Rose zoned out a bit before they started reading off the pairs.

“Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley.” Marling’s light voice rang through the room. It was unexpected to hear those surnames assigned together. They had worked together a few times throughout their schooling, but it wasn’t often. Professors usually waited to see how they interacted around each other, and when the barely-tolerable dynamic was observed, they were seated as far away as possible from each other. It was only occasionally when a teacher would notice that Malfoy’s best mate was a Potter, and this name game was forgotten.

Rose somehow wasn’t shocked, though she thought she should have been. They rarely got along, but they did work well together, each of them picking up on something the other missed.

Malfoy caught Rose’s eyes from across the room and nodded. Rose nodded back.

“We still alternate on a night-to-night basis. Tonight, I believe, is the 6th years’ night. I have schedules that go through the end of the month,” Baker announced when all pairs were called. He and Marling handed them out, and Rose folded hers up small and stuck it in an inside pocket of her robes.

~

“I missed this,” Rose breathed as the Sorting ended and the food appeared on the tables. “I don’t know what their secret ingredient is, but the elves in the kitchen make the best pumpkin juice I’ve ever had.” She took another sip and nodded.

Just like first term, Rose ate meals with Violet, Lily, Hugo, and Fred. Lucy was really the only Gryffindor cousin who didn’t eat with them, but that’s because she always skipped lunch to smoke her Muggle cigarettes and spent breakfast and dinner with her stoner Hufflepuff friends.

As Rose chased a rather overly-frosted bite of cake with the last of her goblet of pumpkin juice, Fred commented wryly, “Well, we all know what Rose wants for her birthday.”

Rose beamed. “If any of you ever have an overabundance of the stuff, you can let me take it off your hands.

“Take what off their hands? Drugs?” Malfoy asked, appearing out of nowhere right next to her."

“Yes, Malfoy. My cousins and I run an illegal potion-popping business. I’m in charge since no one ever suspects the Prefect. We even talk about it out in the open at dinner!” As if her her tone wasn’t enough, Rose sent him a scathing look.

Malfoy made a face. “Ok, look, I just came to tell you to meet me in the Slytherin dorms when it’s time for patrols. We can work bottom up.”

Having delivered his message, Scorpius began to leave. Rose called, “But how will I get in?”

“You’re smart; figure it out!” he called back with the trademark Malfoy smirk and sat back down at the Slytherin table.

~

Having been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team for four years going strong, Rose was in pretty good shape. Sure, Quidditch wasn’t _the most_ cardio-intensive sport, but flying required strong leg muscles and balance. Not to mention all the laps they ran around the pitch every practice.

But that did not mean she enjoyed walking all the way from the tower to the dungeons. Frequent trips to the Burrow probably should have gotten her used to it long before she even started school at Hogwarts, but Rose was fond of complaining.

Rose counted the steps, using the portraits hanging in the corridors as a guide. The last thing she wanted was for the moving stairs to lead her to the other side of Hogwarts.

“Oh, hey, Rose!” Emilie called. She was approaching from the opposite direction. “You headed to the dungeons?”

Rose nodded. “Malfoy and I have patrols.” She twisted her prefect badge, the robes tangling up in the pin. Rose pulled the fabric free. They walked down Dungeon Corridor together, Emilie telling her lavish tales from back home. Her bright voice sounded out of place in the gloomy hallway

“Parseltongue,” Emilie said after they tiptoed down the last set of stairs.

“ _That_ is the most stereotypical Slytherin password I have ever heard,” Rose stated.

“If you want something creative, go ask the Ravenclaws for submissions. I’ll see you whenever,” she grumbled to Rose with a smile as they walked into the common rooms.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and took a seat on a cold leather couch. Even though she chose a seat away from the other students in the commons, she wasn’t afraid of the Slytherins. She didn’t feel the need to hide her Gryffindor tie. The world had moved past the rivalry and animosity, she liked to think. Rose watched Emilie disappear into her dorm, and when she was out of sight, Rose’s eyes wandered.

The Slytherin common room was the same as it had been the last time Rose had been there the night of Malfoy’s party and all the other times she’d been there over the years. Rose had always liked the atmosphere of the room. It was cold, since it was beneath a lake, but that underground, closed-in feeling also made it cozy.  

Rose took a worn paperback book out from the inner pockets of her robes. She was about halfway into _Coraline_ and was really enjoying the Muggle novel.

Scorpius walked in, laughing with Zambini. He noticed Rose and jogged over to her. “I’ll be just a minute,” he said. “It’s _great_ to see you found a way in here.”

Rose shook her head. “Just go get ready, Malfoy.”

A few minutes later when they were exiting the common room, Scorpius asked, “How _did_ you get in? Run into a Slytherin on the way down?"

Rose nodded. “Emilie, actually.”

Scorpius looked up. “Did she say anything about Al?”

“No. It was weird. She talked about the holiday pleasantly, as if nothing happened.”

“Do you think maybe she doesn’t know?"

“And what? He broke up with her because of a guilty conscious or because he wanted to be with Violet?”

“Could be either. I can talk to him, if you like.”

“If you want to. I really don’t care. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt because Al’s being an idiot.”

“And what about Violet? She can’t be okay being the other woman, right? That doesn't sound like her."

"Can't we just forget it? This is Al's business, not ours. He'll figure it out in his own time."

They made their way back up the stairs and turned a corner. Scorpius opened a broom closet on the left and whispered, "Lumos." When they saw good and well that the only inhabitants were cleaning supplies, he muttered, "Nox," and closed the door. They moved on.

"Weasley, I know you don't want to meddle. But if we don't get involved this could hurt a lot of people. This is your best mate we're talking about, and my childhood friend."

Rose peered down a dead-end corridor. "I just think we'd make it worse. I'll keep my eyes on Violet and Al and tell you about any suspicious behavior, but Emilie and Al have broken up. There's nothing we can do."

"I suppose I'm just glad Al didn't inherit the Weasley stubbornness," Scorpius mumbled as Rose waved to Alice Longbottom, who was patrolling with a Hufflepuff.

“Hey, he has more in common with you than with me.”

Malfoy shook his head. “Like what?”

Rose could think of a number of things. “You’re both annoying, but Al is fun, so I guess that doesn’t really count.” She thought for a minute. “Well, for one, you both have stupid middle names, Mr. Scorpius Hyperion.”

“Okay, Al’s name isn’t stupid. Severus Snape was a Slytherin and a headmaster. Get some respect.”

As they walked up a set of moving stairs, Rose retorted, “He was also a Death Eater and he treated my family terribly when he was the Potions Master. He was best friends with my grandmum when they were young and later became horrible to her, all because he was jealous. I’m not going to respect him just because he was on Dumbledore’s side for fifteen minutes.”

Malfoy held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, we won’t have this argument. My first name translates to scorpion and my surname means unfaithful, so my middle name had to be just as interesting. It’s a Malfoy tradition, having strange names. Dad’s name means dragon and his father’s was derived from the Muggle Christian devil, Lucifer, which came from the Latin word _lux_ , meaning light. That's where we get _lumos_ from.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised you know so much etymology.”

“What about you? Aren’t you a writer?”

“Point taken. What does Hyperion mean? Because if it means hyper, it’s not very accurate. Scorpion, on the other hand, is very accurate.”

Scorpius ignored Rose’s jab. She was just trying to get a rise out of him.“Clearly you don’t know your Greek mythology. Hyperion was the Titan of the sun and light.” He grinned cheekily. “I suppose you could say I’m your sun.”

Rose grimaced. “Gross.”

They finished their patrols with relative ease. Most students were too busy settling back into their dorms to sneak around the school. At any rate, patrols were a breeze. Rose could’ve almost said it was peaceful, walking through the dark school with a silent Malfoy by her side.

 


	3. February 8th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose took a trip to some nearby docks to complete schoolwork. While there, she ran into the last person she wanted to see, her estranged cousin James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is double the length of the first two, I think. So, enjoy!

Rose stuffed some quills and rolls of parchment into her brown leather bag and then slung it over her shoulder. She ruffled through the stack of papers atop her trunk at the end of her bed until she found the Hogsmeade permission slip, tucking it inside the purse as well. She had to keep things like that secure—a startling number of teenagers were willing to steal a mere permission slip bearing her mother or father’s signature, evidently.

Rose grabbed her broom and snuck onto the the end of the line for Hogsmeade, digging around in her bag for that permission slip. It was about an hour after everyone else had gone so she wasn't waiting for long; she always planned it that way, so as to not get distracted by any friends. Professor Longbottom cast a suspicious glance at her broom but let her go anyways.

When she was certain there were no eyes on her, she climbed on her broom and took off. She traveled for a while towards the coast, reveling in the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair and prickling her face. She didn't do this too often, but every once in a while she loved skipping the Hogsmeade outings just to go flying and be by the sea. Rose wasn't much of a shopper, anyway.

Once she made it to the coast, she flew down to this great bay James discovered for her. Back in his Hogwarts days, he used to love exploring around Scotland and Northern England during school breaks. A good Muggle friend of his worked at these docks, and Rose was still sneaking to them years later.

She picked a spot on the rightmost side of the docks, nearest to the Atlantic, and landed smoothly, salty seaspray splashing on her. Rose took out her parchment but didn't start working yet; instead, she spent a while just watching. Perhaps the reason she loved the ocean so much was the peacefulness—with her large family and friends, she didn't usually get much of that.

Feeling spiritually satisfied, Rose began working on her article. She was the assistant editor of Hogwart’s news magazine and she had yet to start on any of her articles. Her best work came from these excursions, and she wanted to build up an impressive portfolio to send to the Daily Prophet or wherever she decided to start her career in journalism.

Rose switched her cumbersome quills for a mechanical pencil—one of the advantages of being the daughter of a Muggle-born. She wrote and wrote, trying her best not to look back and edit. Whenever she got stuck, she would stare at the ocean for a few minutes until the words started forming in her head again.

She had just come up with the _perfect_ ending for her column (a series about the culture mix of being raised by a Muggle-born and a pureblood) and was about to leave when she heard voices coming around the corner. At first she paid it no mind and went back to looking over her compositions one final time. Workers and sailors were always milling around various parts of the dock. A few of the employees knew her by name and and checked in on her whenever she visited.

“A little bit further…” she heard a guy named Waylon say, pulling a long cardboard box through the dark alley between the big storage shed and the bait shop. He always offered her soda and American sweets he bought when he traveled to see his family. His older sister was a songwriter for some popular American artists.

Rose waved over to him. “Hi Waylon!”

He turned his head and shouted back, “Rose, hey! Ditching school to work on schoolwork again?”

“Of course. Got the rough drafts of three articles done.”

“That’s great!” Having set the box down, he jogged over to her. “Holidays nice?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “Almost got expelled for vandalism when my friends and I got trashed for my cousin Al’s best friend’s birthday. I put together a New Years yacht party for the whole extended family, and you know how much I love sailing, so it was wonderful. But it’s also great being back at school.”

Rose noticed a streak of black in her periphery. Emerging from the alleyway was a boy in his late teens with dark hair and wide eyes.

“James,” she whispered, all air leaving her lungs.

“Do you know him?” Waylon asked.

“Er, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you some other time, okay?” Rose rolled up her parchments and shoved all her things back into her bag.

“Alright. Here, before you fly off, take a Reese's.” He tossed a small orange package her way. Being a keeper and all, Rose caught it without needing to look, but the second the sweets landed in her hand, she hesitated. She was anxious to be so close to James after excluding him from her life for so long, but she had to understand.

“How do you know?” Waylon was a Muggle and had no relation to any wizard or witch, she was sure of it. Unless he was the childhood friend of James’ that introduced him to the docks…

“I assumed. You always have a broomstick, Rose, and you write on fucking scrolls of parchment. To the trained eye, it’s obvious you’re a witch.”

“No, I mean...Did James tell you about the Wizarding World?”

“When we were eleven.” Waylon laughed. “He had just received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts and couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” He started to leave, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was going on with Rose and James.

Rose nodded, anticipating her shitty luck. Before she could mount on her broom, one word pierced the salty air.

“Rose.”

She turned to face her cousin. He hadn’t aged graciously, but Rose suspected that was more from his lifestyle than anything else. The memory of Uncle Harry telling the story of the first time he was introduced to Sirius Black, a filthy, mad, innocent vagrant who did nothing to deserve the life he was dealt. Bile clawed at her throat.

“James.”

“Where do I begin?” he muttered to himself. “Why didn’t you invite me to the New Years party?”

“A party is hardly the right occasion.” Rose clenched and unclenched her fists. “What do you think would have happened? Your parents wouldn’t have had questions? Al and Lily would’ve instantly forgive you?”

“You have to give me a chance, Rosie Red.”

“Only Al can call me that,” she snapped. “We gave you a chance. You were gone nearly a year and we forgave you. And then you left again. For France, from the sound of your accent. What the fuck is in France for you?”

A dark shadow of melancholy washed over his face, but he quickly pushed it away in irritation. “Er, Lysander Scamander.”

“Unbelievable. Let me guess: you’re the reason he and Louis broke up? Showed up at Ly’s door, said you had nowhere else to go. He took you in and because of proximity you two fucked. You and Al better keep your relationship advice away from Lily because I don’t want all the Potter kids to become cheaters and homewreckers.”

“Al cheated?”

“Yeah, on the girl he loved, with my best friend. Malfoy and I are currently trying to figure out how to handle the situation. But you don’t get to pretend to care when you’ve been hiding in Paris with Lysander.”

“I do care, he’s my fucking brother!”

“Then act like it! Come home. I promise you that’s what we want. Fix things with Al and Lily and start being a brother to them again.”

“After everything that happened, I was scared of the judgement.... I stole money from my parents. I was horrible. I can’t got back there.” With every crack in his voice, Rose’s throat closed up more.

“Children are supposed to disappoint their parents. But James, you broke Al and Lily’s hearts. You’re nineteen—how about you grow up.”

Rose mounted her broom and was about to take off when James started talking again. “Do you even know the whole story? It wasn’t just about the attention and the money.”

“Does it matter?” Rose called as she ran over to Waylon. She didn’t want to leave him like that, not after having a fight with James.

“Yes it does!” he insisted, following her. She smiled to Waylon and helped him carry that long box into his office.

They set the package down on the desk. It was covered in clear packing tape, so Waylon and Rose attacked it with scissors.

They were nearly done when Rose shifted her position. She was cutting towards her, and when James ran into the room and knocked into the package, the scissor blades went straight into her palm.

“Shit!” She screamed and nursed her hand, bringing it in close.

Waylon’s immediate reaction was to comfort her, but that did not address the pair of scissors protruding from her left hand.

“Can you magic it out?” he asked James, who was removing the first aid kit from the wall.

“Theoretically I could, but I don’t know how. I haven’t been properly trained on how to do that without exacerbating the wound.”

James slowly pulled the blade out and examined the wound. “When was the last time you took the tetanus potion?”

“Two years ago, I think.” Rose watched as James put on gloves and soaked a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide. She winced when he started cleaning the wound.

“I’m almost done, Rose. It’s a fairly shallow wound so you don’t need to seek further medical attention, but if it starts hurting a lot go to Madame Pomfrey. I’m going to recommend you go to her tomorrow morning to change the dressings and follow her medical advice from then on.”

James went back to the first aid kit and pulled out some gauze. He taped it on her hand and gave her some painkiller potion he had stored in his bag. “How does it feel?”

“Not too bad, as long as I don’t put pressure on it.” She looked up at her cousin, animosity replaced by fear. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to fly back to Hogwarts.”

He smiled softly, testing the grounds. It was the perfect opportunity to try to start fixing things with Rose. Her anger never knew any bounds, and James knew that it would probably be more difficult to sway her opinion than either of his siblings. “I’ll fly you back as close as I can get."

Not really wanting to spend an hour next to James with no escape but not seeing any other solution, Rose nodded. With her right hand, she slung her bag over her shoulder and climbed onto her broom behind James. “Bye, Waylon. I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“It’s alright, just feel better, Rose. And James, I’ll get back to you. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yes. Just think it over, sleep on it. If you can’t, it’s not a problem.” James took off, taking a sharp turn to the right to be on track to Hogwarts.

“What’s Waylon getting back to you about?”

James’ voice was slightly distracted. “I asked if I could stay with him for a little while. Looks like Ly and Louis are getting back together and it’s really not my place to be hanging around there anymore.” He scanned the sky and Rose had a flashback of playing Quidditch alongside him in the final game his seventh year. She wondered what fear, what anger fueled the events that happened after graduation.

“James?” She wasn’t used to being serious with him; it was always either raging anger or playful pranks. The two of them never had many personal conversations—it just wasn’t how their relationship worked. Now, none of that mattered anymore. She wanted to know.

“Mm?”

“Earlier...you said I didn’t know the whole reason you ran away.”

James sighed.

“When I was in Muggle primary school—think I was maybe nine at this point—I had a crush on this boy in my class. His family was super conservative, and when his mom found out, she made a big deal of it. Waylon, who has a transgender mom, defended me in front of her, and, well, that’s how we became friends. I was too young to understand what any of it meant, but I vowed to myself that I would never like a boy like that again. Didn’t last too long, though, because I dated Michael Crawford for most of fourth year. It’s stupid, but that experience set in me this deep shame. For years, I wanted so badly to only like girls.”

“You always seemed so confident about your sexuality. Malfoy said you were part of the reason he chose to come out as bisexual to Al and I when he did.”

Rose couldn’t see James’ face, but she knew from his tone of voice that he was grimacing. “Fake it til you make it, Rosie.” She kicked his shin when he used Al’s nickname, but rubbed his shoulder to show that she was listening and that she cared. All those months of hatred and all he needed to win her over again was to bear his soul to her. He continued, “That’s part of the reason I stayed with Lysander. I feel horrible about fucking up his relationship, but I learned a lot in Paris. It was the best medicine, really, to be around someone so unapologetically himself. Guess we have Luna’s eccentricity to thank for that.”

“Tell me one thing: if you’ve been insecure about your sexuality for years, why did it matter when you ran away? You’ve been out to the family for since Michael Crawford and to the public for half as long.”

“Stuff like that...it sticks with you, Rosie. Bubbling under the surface, repressed, waiting for something to provoke it out.”

“Did that happen? Did someone say something to you?”

“I was anxious and paranoid from the press. I expected everyone I came in contact with to be bigoted and hateful and judgemental. And sometimes they were. I was just getting readjusted to life after coming back home and met up with some school buddies. Rumours had started while I was gone and they were...less than friendly. It wasn’t that I was unprepared to deal with that kind of thing; it was the timing of the whole ordeal, and the betrayal from them, that set me off.”

Rose hesitantly stuck out her hand and gripped James’ shoulder. She took a deep breath.“I’m so sorry, James. I had no idea.”

“It means a lot, Rosie.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you’re letting me.” He smiled back at her. “Anyway, now I’m working to get my life back on track. I’ve enrolled at St. Mungo’s academy. Parents don’t know yet, so don’t tell them.”

“Healing?” It made sense, Rose figured, thinking back on all the electives he took in his later years at Hogwarts. And there was that whole puncture wound thing from, like, twenty minutes before.

“Yeah! Lysander works, so when I stayed with him I starting taking classes at a local uni. It was mostly out of boredom since I neither wanted nor needed a job, but I learned a lot!”

“I’m trying to picture you in healer’s robes.”

“Well, I’m thinking of going into sports healing. It’s a lot bigger in the Muggle world, but then they have a lot more sports.”

“I suppose it’ll allow you to continue being around Quidditch without actually playing,” Rose summarized.

“That’s the appeal. How’s the season going so far?”

“Hufflepuff is in the lead right now. We’re third, behind Slytherin. I wouldn’t be too heartbroken if we don’t win the cup this year as long as we get it next year.”

“Send me an owl when your next game gets close. I’ll come see you play.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Do Potters ever listen to the rules? I might not be a student anymore, but I’m probably related to a third of all the Quidditch players in the school. Might as well go.”

Just for kicks, James dove unexpectedly. Rose screamed in exhilaration. Now that they were closer to the ground, Rose could see the sprawl of the shops and restaurants that made up Hogsmeade. She noticed the Shrieking Shack hidden away to the side and recalled the stories her parents told her of Teddy’s father and her grandparents and her great-Godfather Sirius. She would never get to meet Grandpa James, but based on the collection of stories shared with her, she thought her James was quite like him. Maybe he was a little more melodramatic and sensitive than the original James Potter, but different times, right?

James dropped down to the ground. “Now arriving at Hogsmeade station. This is the end of the line. All passengers must exit the train,” he said in a faux-mechanized voice.

Rose laughed. “I’ll see you.” She started to walk away, but there was unfinished business to attend to. “And James? I’m sorry.”

He nodded wordlessly. Rose figured there was nothing more to say, so she began walking up the sloping path from the little town to Hogwarts.

~

She walked back into the castle about fifteen minutes before dinner was to start, which was good. Rose didn’t usually get back so late when out on her excursions, but she also didn’t usually run into estranged cousins or injure herself, either. It was a fantastic day, though, once she let her guard down and  _listened._

“Oi! Weasley!” Malfoy came up to her as she exited the Gryffindor Tower, and the Fat Lady gave him a sidelong glare from her portrait.

Rose walked beside him. “I haven’t seen you all day. Did you not go to up to Hogsmeade?" he asked.

“I—er...Technically, no.” Call Rose a goody-two-shoes, but she didn’t like to lie. Lies tended to get one into a lot of trouble and generally caused more problems than they were worth, as evidenced by recent lies of each of the Potter boys.

“Are you going to tell me where you were, then? Because if you had stayed in today, you would still be in pajamas, sans makeup. Or is it a secret only the Minister knows?”

Rose flushed and wondered when Malfoy noticed that her lashes and brows were done up, a little peach sheen on her lips and cheeks. Nevertheless, he was a clever boy, and he knew she had spent her childhood with the best rule-benders in this generation of Hogwarts students.

“I. ah, I went to these docks. That James used to bring me to. And I wrote a lot, for the Bulletin.”

Malfoy raised a blond eyebrow. “If that’s all, how did you do that?” He gestured with said eyebrow to her left hand.

Rose flushed again, out of embarrassment. “Funny story,” she began, as they neared the entrance to the Great Hall. She was about to spill everything, from her own clumsiness to seeing James, but experienced a rather rude interruption.

“Oh, finally!” Emilie shouted in exasperation from the doorway to the Hall. “I’ve been looking for you two all day!”

Rose was no good at deduction skills, but the look on Scorpius’ face did not seem promising. “Is everything alright, Em?” she asked.

Emilie chose not to reply in words, but instead delivered to Scorpius a swift knee to the groin. At once he withered in pain and became very familiar with the cold stone floor. Before Rose could ask what the fuck was wrong with Emilie, a hand came across her right cheek. Rose staggered against the wall, using her injured hand, unfortunately, to steady herself.

“ _That’s_ for knowing about Al and Violet and not telling me,” she spat, eyes bloodshot and voice like venom. She turned on her heel towards the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

As it turned out, a bitchslap was a much less severe trauma than getting kicked in the nuts, so once Rose recovered, she helped Malfoy. Rose fed him the last few drops of the painkiller potion James gave her earlier.

“Thanks,” he told her quite vulnerably. She didn’t imagine this was very fun for him, so she withheld any cheeky comments for the sake of being nice.

They walked into the Great Hall together, parting to go to their respective tables. Not many people were dining at the moment, as was usual with Hogsmeade days. Many students spent the better part of the day in the town and ate during the later dinner hours. Others had eaten in town and simply weren’t hungry when they returned. Dismayed, Rose noticed that no one from her usual meal group was there, but she loaded up her plate with mashed potatoes and roast chicken anyway.

Noticing Rose sitting alone like in those awkward Muggle movies, Scorpius took his plate and moved to sit across from her. He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Fishy Green Ale. Rose sipped her pumpkin juice.

“Is this allowed?”

“Don’t be a killjoy,” he snapped and rolled his eyes. “Inter-house unity,” he offered, and she nodded. Neither of them knew what to make of Emilie’s outburst, so they sat in slightly tense silence, turning it all over in their heads.

“How do you reckon she found out we knew?” Rose asked finally, even though she knew the answer.

“I suspect she heard our argument the other day during patrols.”

Rose frowned. “We really should report her for being out past curfew.”

“We’d have no proof she was. Besides, do you really want to make her even angrier than she already is?”

Rose nodded in understanding and finished off her mashed potatoes. Malfoy played with his apple crumble and asked, “Care to tell me the story about how you hurt your hand, and why it’s not been cured by magic?”

“I, er, ran into James at the docks.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “But isn’t he public enemy number one? How are you not shaking with fury?”

“I do not shake with fury!”

“Yes, you do,” Malfoy said pointedly.

Rose sighed. “The story is more complicated than I was aware of. He didn’t run away for selfish reasons, but because he was hurt and lost.” Rose was hesitant to tell him the details, but she figured that Malfoy was practically part of the family already with the amount of time he spent with Albus, so he’d find out eventually. She told him the whole story, awkwardly stumbling over her words. She knew sexuality was potentially just as touchy a subject for Scorpius as for James, so she apologized. “I hope this didn’t bring up...anything.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I’m progeny from the part of the Wizarding World still too obsessed with tradition. I came out to my parents, and it was fine. _That_ conversation ended with my father confirming the rumours about that secret affair he had with your Uncle Harry back in '01. Trust me, I won’t ever forget that conversation, try as I might. I came out to my maternal aunt and uncle, and then the whole extended family knew. Some of them don’t even believe that bisexuality exists, and the ones who do don’t hide the fact that they blatantly hope I marry a woman so that I have an heir and pass on the Malfoy name.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Rose certainly couldn’t relate to the feeling, but she was sure it sucked.

“I’m used to it.” Another shrug. It angered Rose, because he surely couldn’t take this kind of abuse as a normal occurrence. But what could she do to help?

“If I were you, I’d just go and snog some bloke out in the open at, like, a family reunion. Be a big ‘fuck you’ to the bigots in your family,” Rose said confidently.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered that you think I’m bold enough to do that.”

“I would characterize you more as arrogant, but same difference, right? I bet your dad would appreciate your total and complete disregard for any sort of social rules.”

Rose must have hit a chord, because Scorpius was blushing up a storm, an odd look for such a pale guy. “I don’t know where I could get a guy to snog. You know the only one I’ve ever liked is Lysander, who isn’t a viable option right now.”

“I’ll run an advert in the Bulletin. It’s decided.”

Rose and Scorpius weren’t ones for deep conversations with each other, so maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, but they both cracked up. Scorpius pushed aside his apple crumble and grabbed a serving of string beans; Rose took his plate and finished his dessert off. “What does Fishy Green Ale taste like anyway?”

“I assure you it doesn’t taste as repulsive as it sounds. It’s actually quite sweet.”

“I know that you like sweet,” Rose commented, a mischievous grin on her face. “That’s why you crushed on Lysander instead of, say, my cousin.”

“Which one? Al? Not a chance.” Malfoy shook his head. “He’s my best mate. Besides, Ly is sweet, but he’s also got this cigarettes-and-leather kind of edge to him.”

Rose shrugged and laughed. Neither said anything for a few minutes, and it was one of the few times they could have a silence without it turning awkward.

“Wait!” Malfoy looked a bit troubled. “You never told me how you hurt your hand.”

“James and I have a mutual friend, Waylon, down at the docks. I was helping him open a box that was absolutely caked in packing tape. Well, you know grace has never been a virtue of James’, and he bumped into the box. Let’s just say using scissors to slice the tape was not the smartest idea.”

Malfoy laughed. “Of course.”

“Hey!” Rose didn’t know whether to be offended or if his teasing was good-natured. “Mind you, I was blindingly furious at James at the time! I wasn’t exactly concerned about the possibility of plunging a blade into my palm.”

“I still don’t understand why James didn’t just use the episkey spell to fix you hand up.”

Rose shrugged. “Something about his nerves being too bad to have the necessary concentration. You know, James is training to be a sports healer at St. Mungo’s…but you’re not supposed to know that.” Rose blushed at her slip-up. “He gave me some of that healing and numbing potion, so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Malfoy nodded. “Do Al and Lily know that you’re on good terms with James again?”

“No.” Rose shook her head. “I don’t even think either of them are back from Hogsmeade yet.”

“Well you should. Tell them, I mean. Soon.”

Rose hesitated but nodded anyway. “I will.” She was sheepish under Malfoy’s pointed glare.


	4. February 11th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch game!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once saw a tumblr post detailing a headcanon I really loved, but it's lost in the void now. It talked about how Qudditch rules making the snitch worth 150 points sometimes makes the chasers obsolete. If the rules were changed so the snitch only ended the game without adding points, all the players would have a more equal level of importance. I thought this was a neat idea, so I used it!

That Saturday, Rose took her breakfast to the office on the fifth floor. It was a bit drafty in there, but it was the official room for Hogwart’s student paper. Since the other editor of _The Bulletin_ was ill with a dizzying head cold, Rose had a ton of work to do. The current issue had to be sent out to the copiers before three to be able to be distributed before Valentine’s Day. _And_ there was a big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch game that evening. It was difficult not to rush through everything, and Al storming in the room didn’t help.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where these came from?” Al shuffled nervously and brought out a pale seafoam green flyer with “ALBUS POTTER HAS A SMALL DICK” printed on it in bolded black text.

Rose fought the urge to laugh. It was totally something Al would have found hilarious had he not been the unfortunate victim. “Well, is it true?” she asked, looking back to the page at hand.

“No, it’s not!”

Rose dragged her wand across the front page, adjusting the text spacing one final time. She flipped through all twenty pages, making sure the style looked consistent throughout the publication.

Without taking her eyes away from the paper, she thought aloud. “I presume that was Emilie’s work. It has her touch of revenge on it.”

Al had a retort ready on his lips, but then he stopped still. “You...know?”

Rose turned her swivel chair to face him. She nodded. “I’m your cousin, not your mother, Al, so I’m allowed to tell you that you've fucked up big time.”

“I...I never meant for it to turn out like this.”

“What were you thinking? You’d just sleep with Violet and everything would be fine? You had to know that when Em found out, she’d ruin you.”

He coughed awkwardly. “About that. I mean, I get why you know. The only person I told was Scorp, and you two have been, well, chummy lately. But—how did she, uh, find out?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at his implication of _chummy_ and then laughed humorlessly. “So you didn’t tell her. Good one, Al. Malfoy and I were arguing about it a bit when we were on patrols—I wanted to do something about your shitty decisions, like an intervention or something, and he wanted to leave it alone and let you deal with the repercussions when they came. So I guess he won. Emilie was out past curfew and heard our conversation. We didn’t even know she was sneaking around until a few days ago when she made it very clear to Malfoy and I that she overheard.”

“You couldn’t have warned me about the potential of waking up to a destroyed reputation?”

“You couldn’t have, like, not cheated on your girlfriend?”

“It was a mistake!” He groaned, rubbing his face like he did whenever he was frustrated.

“Don’t start this, Al! A one night stand with Violet would have been a mistake. How long has this been going on?”

“Since Boxing Day,” he whispered.

“So have you been living in a fantasy land for the past month and a half?”

His little laugh was shaky; his fingers wound themselves around each other. “Kinda. It happened and then it kept happening, and I knew it was wrong, but it seemed so insurmountable to fix. So I did nothing.”

Rose cleared her throat. “Al, I love you. But you have to own up to your mistakes. Even if the consequences are humiliating. Believe me, I don’t want to be thinking about the size of—”

Al cut Rose off, pleading,“Will you help me take them all down, then? They’re everywhere.”

“I’m sorry. Got too much editing to do.” Rose gestured to the page in front of her. “But you can have the rest of my breakfast, if that helps. I’m full.”

Al took her plate of American-style pancakes drenched in maple syrup. “Thanks, I guess. Good luck tonight in the match?”

“You too!”

After Albus left, Rose got right to work. Most of her corrections were insignificant, but she did catch a few cringe-worthy typos and design inconsistencies. Maybe having a perfectionist edit The Bulletin was the best thing that ever happened to the paper.

“Hey, Weasley.” Malfoy’s voice jarred Rose from her work. She looked up to see him standing in the doorway, wearing his trademark Malfoy smirk. Sure, he had woven grandiose stories over the years about how his dad had transformed from a Death Eater in training to the so-called “respectable, kind” man he was now, but Rose didn’t need a time machine to know that Scorpius Malfoy wore the same smirk his father had when he was in his Hogwarts days.

Rose scowled to show her disapproval. “May I help you?”

“I don’t want to seem like I’m fraternizing with the enemy, but Al asked me to come. Quidditch warm ups are in half an hour.”

Rose shot up. “Time flies,” she muttered. As she gathered together her things, she asked, “How is he doing?”

“He’s been mortified and betrayed by a girl he once loved. I don’t imagine it’s very fun. But I think that the Quidditch game will raise his spirits some. Maybe if Slytherin wins he’ll feel more dignified.”

Rose grinned. “We’ll see.”

Malfoy handed over a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. “Snagged this from the House Elves. Figured you would need the protein, seeing as you’re an undeniable workaholic. I knew you would skip lunch.”

As if on cue, Rose’s stomach grumbled. “Fine, fine. You get the satisfaction of being right just this once. Now, this better not be ham.”

Rose tore into the wrapping. Inspecting the sandwich, Rose was delighted to see that it didn’t contain any of the offending meat. She couldn’t stand the stuff.

“Roast beef, swiss cheese, and sweet barbeque sauce, sans mayo, all on a whole-wheat bun.”

“How’d you know I don’t like mayo?”

“Same reason I know you hate ham.” Malfoy chuckled. “It’s because you never stop talking about it!”

Rose couldn’t argue that. She shrugged and bit into the sandwich. “Very good. Thanks.”

"You won't be saying that when Slytherin wins tonight." There it was again, that Malfoy smirk. Rose had seen pictures of Lucius, Scorpius' grandfather, in her History of Magic textbook, and she tried to imagine him smirking. It was an odd thought and didn't quite work in her head.

All thoughts of dead Malfoys aside, Rose never could resist a challenge. " _That's_ not going to happen. Al will be too distracted to play a good game, and he'll be showing off to compensate his ego, so he'll get careless."

"Maybe so, but he's only one chaser. We've still got two others."

"He's your best scorer."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Well, then, why don't you go give him a big pep talk? You're the one who's good with words."

"And risk him playing well tonight? Not a chance, Malfoy. I talked with him earlier; words of encouragement can wait."

Malfoy considered this. "Race you to the changing rooms?"

"You're on." Rose took off, clutching her sandwich tightly in her hand.

"Hey, wait!"

~

By the time Rose and Scorpius made it to the pitch, they were neck and neck. Rose touched the stone wall of the changing rooms first, Scorpius following just a second later.

“I win!” Rose proclaimed proudly, grinning wildly.

“That's only because you go a head start. I lost, say, maybe fifteen seconds, which would have made all the difference in the world.”

"You say that now, but you know how notorious Slytherin is for playing dirty. I can't join in on the fun?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “Why, Weasley, you would have made a decent Slytherin.”

Rose shrugged. Because she knew her Slytherin-like traits were her worst, she always tried to downplay her connection to the house. “Uncle Harry was almost a Slytherin, you know. He told the Sorting Hat he didn't want to be in Slytherin because he'd been told they all turn dark. It must've been really bad back then, if that's what _Harry_ thought. Oh! Did you know—your dad was the first classmate he met. They were in Madame Malkan's, as the story goes, buying school robes for first year.”

“Ok, chatty. I've heard the story. Go on, go change. I’ve got to warm up.”

“Code for meeting up with Blake Scott before the match? I hear he’s a good kisser.”

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He gave her the middle finger, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “I guess I’ll have to find out myself.”

“Alright, alright, Malfoy. Spare me the details.”

His laughter faded, leaving the two of them in a silence marked by their own awkwardness. “Well,” Rose exclaimed, “I guess I’ll see you on the pitch. Good luck tonight!”

“You too, Weasley, though I’m so going to kick your arse.”

“We’ll see.”

~

“Albus Potter fumbles, but he gets possession of the Quaffle!” Raine Tyler was attempting to curtail her enthusiasm, but her house pride was clearly getting in the way. She tugged on her green scarf in apprehension. All Slytherins had been on edge since that morning’s incident with the unfortunate flyers; the first game of the term was always a big one, so there was a lot riding on Potter’s performance. As Emilie’s best friend, Raine didn’t want to start a conflict of interest, but right now her role was the Quidditch commentator, not Emilie’s croonie.

“...Potter drops the Quaffle, and Fred Weasley catches it. Weasley heads for the goals—and scores for Gryffindor! Gryffindor is defending their lead, now seventy to fifty. Malfoy and Wood continue to search for the Snitch.” Raine had to remind herself not to let her disappointment seep into her words, but she had faith in Malfoy. He was a damn good seeker and had led Slytherin to a House Cup victory last year. However, because Potter was in the middle of an emotional crisis and because Gryffindor had as many natural-born players as Slytherin, she didn't know what to expect.

Rule number one: never underestimate the opposition.

Rule number two: overconfidence will always be one's downfall.

Meanwhile, Rose tore her attention away from the words reverberating around the perimeter of the stadium. Fred had just scored, but Slytherin had the Quaffle now. She had to keep her guard up. Narrowly missing a Bludger, Rose kept her eyes trained on the Quaffle like it was worth a million bucks. Her whole body was on edge, humming from the adrenaline, and her muscles clenched in anticipation of the next ball to fly her way. She gripped the sanded, smooth wood of her broomstick tighter still.

The two other Slytherin chasers, McNair and Huff, passed the Quaffle back and forth, evading their Gryffindor pursuers. A high-speed Bludger zoomed on past Rose, courtesy of her teammate Elliot, and knocked Huff out and away. He was alright, Rose presumed, but she had more important things to focus on in that moment. Duty called.

Now, Al stepped up to the challenge. Without missing a beat, he continued the charade with McNair until the Quaffle got close enough to score. McNair sent the ball Rose's way with a powerful underhanded throw. Rose shot to her left, stretching her long Weasley limbs as far as they would go. Her fingers brushed the hot leather, and the muscles in her fingers contracted as if to grab on tight, but the Quaffle's acceleration was simply too great. It tore out of her hands and through the leftmost goal post.

"McNair scores for Slytherin! It's sixty to seventy, folks."

Al caught Rose's eye, and she nodded, a silent conversation passing between the two of them.

Rose glanced at Wood, who was vertically halfway between her and the ground. Malfoy was on the other side of the pitch. Wood rotated his head, searching; halfway through the motion, he stopped and shot up diagonally in the direction opposite Malfoy.

Malfoy was good at what he did, his lithe, lean body enabling him to cut the wind like butter. He was fierce competition, but the fact was he was just too far away.

It was solid Seeker technique to stay as close to the middle of the pitch at all times, both along the length and upwards. The middle, however, was also where one was most likely to be tangled up in Chaser debacles or get pummeled by a speeding Bludger. Being a skilled Seeker depended on speed and focus, yes, but many times it all came down to distance and luck.

So while the Slytherins momentarily let their guard down in celebration, Wood's bony fingers wrapped around the glinting Golden Snitch, ending the game.

"With Malfoy on his tail, Wood catches the snitch! The game goes to Gryffindor, seventy to sixty!"

As was tradition between the cousins, Rose, Fred, and Al all met up at the front of the pitch, high up in the air. Al's expression was slightly sour, but Rose and Fred were grinning ear to ear.

“Good game, Al,” Rose shouted above the roar of wind. “That sequence with McNair was a fantastic play!”

Al looked down at the stadium, watching the Gryffindor side cheer in excitement. “I fucked up a few plays early on in the game.  Maybe if I hadn’t, Slytherin would’ve won.”

“You should give yourself more credit. The game’s been a lot harder since they threw out the 150 point curve for the Snitch.” Fred’s blue eyes gazed worriedly at his cousin.

“Al, don’t let Emilie decide jack squat what you do. If she’s hell-bent on revenge, that’s her shit, not yours. Now, come on, we have a party in the Gryffindor commons to attend.”

“Wait a second,” Al said, not following Rose as she flew down to the cold grass. Rose shot back up to his level. “Why is James here?”

“James?” Fred spoke the name like it was in a foreign tongue.

Rose followed Al’s eyes to the Gryffindor side of the stadium, where several ginger heads and one black one were grouped together off to the side from everywhere else.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?”

“I think this is a conversation best left for when we have Lily and Hugo and the rest with us.” She wasn’t sure if it was the altitude, but Rose began to feel lightheaded.

James _had_ mentioned he would visit a game. She should have expected this.

~

They didn’t find James again until they entered the Gryffindor common room. As they stepped through the portrait hole, clear plastic cups of butterbeer spiked with stolen firewhiskey were shoved at them. Rose gulped half of hers down like a shot, anticipating the shitstorm that was soon to follow.

Ignoring the cheers and pats on the back she received, Rose said to Al and Fred, “He's gotta be here. Somewhere.”

Rose didn't think it was too inaccurate to say that James was hanging out in the Gryffindor commons, but then again, so were two thirds of the student population. If the room had had a safety limit to the amount of people allowed in, they had certainly surpassed it.

She wound herself throughout the room but couldn’t find James, _any_ redheads, or even Violet. The only other person who could possibly be of any help was making out in the common room corner, a pair of dark fingers entangled in hair as pale as the summer sky is blue. Rose regretted having to tear Malfoy away from the lips of one Blake Scott, but she was desperate. Maybe the situation wasn’t as dire as the nerves in her brain made it out to be, but she had always had a flair for the sensational, and it was her family on the line.

“Have you seen my cousins?”

Oh, if looks could kill, Rose would have had a hot date with the guillotine at that moment. Malfoy didn't look too happy with Rose, but he answered her anyway.

“As you can see I've been a bit occupied, but last I know they went up to the boys’ dorms to have a conversation with James that didn’t involve humiliating party games or alcohol. I assume you never got around to breaking the news, huh?”

Rose bit back a retort at Malfoy’s biting tone. “Thanks, I owe you one. Have fun!”

Not particularly in the mood to watch her academic rival and sometimes-friend snog another bloke, Rose hightailed it to the center of the room. She gestured to Fred and Al, both of whom wordlessly followed her down the corridor to the boys’ dormitories.

“If Hugo’s with them, they’re likely to be in the fourth year dorms.”

Al opened the wooden door, a creak slow as molasses emitting from the hinges. They peered in to see a mop of black hair appearing blue in the light’s reflection.

James turned towards the sound and the others followed suit.

“Surprise!”

James went for a sloppy grin, but not many were having it. Lily looked like she was about to faint, poor girl, and Al hadn't moved from the doorway. The rest of the family—cousins upon cousins upon cousins—looked mildly enthused, but they all knew what was coming.

"Well, Rose? Don't you have anything to say for yourself? You always were the most adamant that James be kept as far away as possible, as if his problems made him vermin within the family, and now?" Lily crossed her arms.

"Please, Lily. I just—I didn't know the whole story." Rose glanced back at Al, who had stepped forward a few paces but overall didn't seem too responsive. She swallowed back a knot of guilt. Other relatives had had power within the family to push James out or welcome him in, yes, but Rose had been the biggest crusader in keeping him out of the loop. _She_ kept her best friend from his brother. That blood was on her hands.

"I thought James was being selfish. I wanted him to learn his lesson. But what I thought was wrong, and I'm so sorry. I know an apology won't fix this, but I want you to understand—"

“Save it, Rose. Just...don’t.” Lily stormed out, her silver stilettos punctuating every sniffle.

Lily tended to be even more dramatic than Rose (which was saying something), so once she was gone, the dim room sighed in relief. Maybe Lily resented her, but Lily was prone to holding a grudge. The worst was over.

James stepped towards Al with his arms outstretched and a hopeful expression lighting his eyes. He hugged his little brother, and reluctantly, Al squeezed him back.

Rose stood next to her own brother. “I’m sorry,” she told him as sincerely as she could muster.

He nodded and took her hand. She hadn’t even realized she’d been clenching her fingers tight against her palm.

“I know you. I get it.”

“I appreciate that.” Rose rested her chin atop Hugo’s golden brown curls. “I really screwed this up, huh?”

Hugo shrugged as if to show indifference, but Rose knew he just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“It’s okay. I know.”

 


	5. February 14th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius invites Lysander Scamander to his grandmum's charity ball; Rose and Violet discuss the affair; James decides what to do now that he's back in England.

The next Monday, Rose had just finished applying her makeup in the glorious prefect’s bathroom (the lighting in there was incredible!) when she ran into Malfoy. Literally—they collided.

Luckily, neither had been carrying anything important, so Scorpius simply picked up his coat and started walking to the Great Hall next to Rose.

Of all people...The frequency at which they saw each other was becoming suspicious. She didn’t even _mind_ hanging out with Malfoy anymore. Rose had a theory that the drama that usually occurred between Malfoy and her had somehow (magically!) transferred to Lily. Lily was a drama queen, sure, but she and Rose had never fought before, not once. Now, it had been thirty-six hours, and despite Rose’s incessant attempts at making Lily listen, she was being stubbornly ignored. Even when Rose had cornered Lily in their dorms, Lily had just sidestepped her and walked out.

“Good morning, Weasley. Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Nice? Herbology has been cancelled due to the snow drift headed our way. But if you call that nice weather, be my guest.”

Scorpius’ ringing laughter bounced off the cold stone walls of the narrow corridor. “Yes, that is precisely why it’s a nice day. I haven’t had room in my schedule for a free period since second year!”

Rose bumped him with her shoulder. “You seem awfully happy for 6am on a Monday. Is it because of Scott?”

“Him? No, we’re not together. What you saw at the Quidditch party was just a bit of fun.” A frown began to tug at his lips, but he wouldn’t let it. “Nah, Scott’s family are among the few who equate all Malfoys to something akin to a dementor. Or one of Hagrid's cross-breeds, take your pick. He and I don’t get along _at all_ if there are no lips involved.”

“Really? I guess that’s what you get from a Durmstrang transfer.”

“Hey, they’re not all bad. Really, people like the Scotts are on the fringes of Wizarding society, here and in Sweden. The _reason_ I’m excited is because of….” Scorpius fished a folded bit of parchment from his robes pocket. “Read this.”

Rose glanced at him then unfolded the paper. It was a letter to Lysander. Malfoy’s tone suggested they were much better friends than Rose thought they were.  

“I didn’t know you two were still in touch.”

“We owl every now and then. We’ve known each other for a long time, you know. My crush on him last year was more than just observatory.”

Rose studied the way Malfoy’s cheeks colored. “Are you still into him?”

“No, but I’m eternally grateful that my thing for him didn’t ruin our friendship. He means too much to me. Anyway, he wrote me last week to say that he’s going to be in England soon to visit his mum, who’s home from America until the summer. I know the breakup with Louis a few months back was rough on him, and his fling with James couldn’t have helped. My grandmum is hosting some fancy charity ball at the end of the month, so the least I could do is offer him a distraction.”

“I thought you hated Narcissa’s benefits?”

“Oh, I can’t stand the socialite scene, but she keeps amazing charities on their feet. This year, one of the groups she's sponsoring is an advocacy organization that fights to get anti-gay legislation removed. They also facilitate sexuality and gender education around the world, I think. They work to bring together Muggle and Wizard governments about the issues. She's so excited about it, and she knows how much it means to me, so I can't flake out on her this time."

“Well, I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, I’m going to deliver the letter after breakfast. Is Lily talking to you yet?”

“No, but she’s the least of my concerns right now. While he’s been awaiting confirmation for his next place of residence, James has been hiding out in the Room of Requirement. Twice now one of the heads has caught Al or I sneaking food from the kitchens up to him.”

“The fact of the matter is you two are harboring an outsider in school bounds. I haven’t read _Hogwarts: A History_ like everyone in your family seems to have, but I think it’s safe to say that that is against the rules. Rose Weasley willingly doing something she’s not supposed to? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Rose rolled her eyes at Scorpius’ obnoxious snark. “Oh, lay off. He can’t stay with his parents because they don’t know he’s back, so he’s out of options.”

“Out of options? Rose, your family is nearly as large as the Ministry itself. There’s no one else?”

“He wants to go to his parents first, before any of his other relatives. He’s supposed to be doing that _sometime_ this week, actually. It was easy for him to sneak into the building with all of the post-Quidditch chaos, but I have no idea how he’s going to slip out. Maybe he still has that old Marauder’s Map—that would surely come in handy."

~

Rose spent her free period in the Gryffindor commons, catching up on some reading. Tolkien painted a vivid picture in her head of elves and dwarves, of a ring glinting in the darkness and fire-scorched hillsides, a malicious dragon sweeping over the land. A shadow passed over the yellowed pages, and Rose was so engrossed in the story that she jumped, almost expecting Smaug to pop out and rob her blind.

Violet stood in front of her, messy-haired and nervous. She knotted her fingers and absently played with the charm bracelet her grandmother had bought her for her quincenera. One charm she repeatedly tugged on was a golden heart; lately, love had been on her mind constantly.

Initially, she tried for small talk, which was ridiculous, since Rose knew her better than half her cousins. Rose played along; the tension was thick like the snow slush congealing outside.

“What are you reading?”

“ _The Hobbit_. It’s Muggle, but it’s not about Muggles. There’s even a wizard, though this Tolkien bloke didn’t get it right. Fantasy for the ‘fantasy’, if you will.”

Violet chuckled lightly at Rose’s witticism, but her smile soon slid off her face. “Er, can we talk?”

They walked quietly to their dorm room. Rose clutched _The Hobbit_ tighter than she needed to as she imagined the various ways this inevitable conversation could go down. This was all getting so complicated it made her head throb, and people kept getting hurt. She didn’t know whether to pity or villainize Violet. Where once the answers were simple, there were now forks etched sharply in the road like barbed wire.

Rose collapsed onto her bed. The flowing curtains pulled at her hair, but she ignored it and instead stared up at the girl she used to know. “So, what? Are you here to tell me one way or another it was Al’s fault, or yours?”

“That’s not important.”

“Isn’t it?”

Violet looked impatient, barking mad, but somehow also small and slight. “We’re both to blame. Neither of us are the stereotype of the wicked other woman or cruel adulterer. I’m Violet, he’s Al; you know us.”

“You’re pretending as if this wasn’t a choice you made.”

Rose hadn’t even finished her accusation when Violet blurted, “I was in love with him.”

“You...what?” Rose’s head was spinning, in and out, around and around.

“For nearly all of fifth year. It was an internal, take-this-to-my-grave kind of infatuation.” Violet’s voice quivered, and she winced back the memories, the anxieties of thought-to-be unrequited love.

“Why did you never tell me?” Rose stood now, and she grasped Violet’s hand. They were shaking; Rose put all of her energy and warmth into them until the tremor subsided.

“I...We only knew each other because of you, but we had this sort of flirty thing going. The last thing I wanted was to make things weird for you, so I kept it to myself. I planned to ask him to the winter ball last year, but I heard he was into Emilie, so I resolved to get over him.”

“Is that why you dated Michael Julian last January?”

“Yes. I got over Al pretty easily, I thought, but this year we’ve been partners in our NEWT Potions class. I told myself that wasn’t going to be a problem, and it wasn’t, not at first. We’ve only become closer friends as we’ve gotten to know each other better, and now I recognize that my crush fifth year was totally shallow, built mostly on projections I created from the little I knew of him.”

Rose read between the lines. “But then you started to fall for him for real.”

“I resisted it for months since I knew he was in a relationship, but we were hanging out on Boxing Day, and we were both knackered as hell. You can put the pieces together.”

“I know you fancied him, but I have to ask: If you were both drunk, how can you be sure it was consensual?”

“I didn't feel uncomfortable or violated, But we had a conversation about it the next day. Al tracked me down at my community theatre—I had been helping them run the tech rehearsals for _Romeo and Juliet_ that week. He was concerned he raped me, and when I told him I didn’t see it that way, we were left with the weird truth that he had cheated.

“I asked him if he regretted it even though I was terrified of the answer. He said no. Every time we saw each other after that, I’d go in with the intention of asking him to break up with Emilie, her or me, but I was so intoxicated by his affection that I never could bring myself to. I yearned to end it, you have to believe me, but I could never vocalise it.

“It spiraled into something I didn’t recognize, and I know how badly it beat Al up. He was conflicted, and somehow the thrill of it all negated my bad feelings about it. Emilie found out before he could make the decision.”

Rose dropped Violet’s hand and rubbed her face. When did she become the mediator of her friends’ problems? “I don’t know what you want me to say, Violet.”

“I just….I want you to know that not all people who do bad things are bad people. If Emilie has any say in it, Al and I won’t be off the hook for a long time. I’m not asking for your forgiveness; I’m asking for your understanding.”

“Alright. I can do that.” She grabbed the back of Violet’s golden neck and pulled her in for a hug, whispering “I understand” in her ear.  

Violet took one shaky deep breath and blinked a few times to dispel any unwarranted tears. “I know I did a very bad thing to a very nice girl, but this hasn’t been easy for me either. Thank you for being there for me.”

“Hey, once I stop being an arse, I’m usually extremely helpful.”

Violet cracked a smile. There was no denying that. “I should get going; I’ve got Potions soon. For once I’m grateful for the long walk down to the dungeons—I need to think about this some more.”

“Are you alright to see Al? I do know that he’s been avoiding both you and Emilie like the plague.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later, Rose. Thanks for listening to me.”

Rose had a lesson coming up herself, so she began to pack her school bag for Charms. As soon as Violet had gone out the door and down the steps, she heard someone say “How touching.” with an air of sarcasm that could only belong to a Potter.

James was standing right behind her, Invisibility Cloak in hand. Rose jumped back, startled, then hit him on the shoulder with her _Complex Spells for Advanced Wizards and Witches_ textbook, a hardcover tome of about seven hundred pages.

“Ow! Okay, I get it, joke not appreciated.” James rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. “Thank you for bringing me back to my Quidditch days. I sorely missed the bruises.” He cackled. “Get it? _Sorely_?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Were you here the whole time?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Was that the girl Al cheated with?”

“Yes. She’s also one of my best friends, which is fucked up beyond belief.”

James made some noncommittal noise in his diaphragm and spread his arms out widely. “I had originally come up here to tell you my master plan.”

“You need a master plan to talk to your parents?”

“You’ve stayed at the Burrow as many times as I have, right? When would you say it’s the busiest?”

“Sundays, I suppose.”

“Exactly! That’s really the only time the family’s over because everyone’s so busy with work and weekend plans every other day of the week.”

“So you’re going to visit the Burrow on Sunday?”

“Yeah I will. I’m going to knock everyone out at once.”

“Sounds like a plan, I guess. Just don’t let your excitement get the best of you and actually knock someone out, alright?”

“We’ll see. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

“If you insist. Anyway, I’ve got to go, unless you want to explain to Flitwick the reason I’m late to class?”

“I’ll just stick around here for a while.” He scanned over the stack of books on Rose’s nightstand and picked up _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_. “This should keep me occupied. Man, you guys must get bored without the ability to use electronics in school. Back in Paris, any time I wasn’t in class or with Lysander, I was on Netflix.”

A thought occurred to Rose. It had been prickling her mind for the entire conversation. “Whatever happened with Waylon?”

“I’m going to live with him in London, and I’ve already sent him first month's rent _in Muggle money_. But he’s on holiday with his family in Prague for the time being, so I’ve got to wait until he returns. I move in Friday."


	6. February 19th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes a trip to the Burrow to visit his family for the first time since leaving for Paris.

It was early on a Sunday evening—the sun had _just_ started to sink down into the barebone trees—and the Burrow was shrouded in a late winter frost. James Sirius Potter knocked on the door.

Luck would have it that the day was also one of the monthly Weasley gatherings, in which Molly and Arthur Weasley would host their children, children-in-law, and all other appendages to the Weasley family at their home for a nice dinner. With all of the kids at Hogwarts or post-grad, these meals were a way for the adults to catch up with each other, sans responsibility. Once in a while a kid would come over to see their grandparents and aunts and uncles, but they were mostly caught up in their own lives of textbooks and oral sex and job applications. Glasses of wine and mead were poured in a way that was never done years ago, when there were little flame-haired children dining with them.

Molly had just finished preparing the meal and other various Weasleys were setting dishes and utensils and trays of food onto the table when James arrived. Harry Potter, wineglass in hand and half-filled, rushed to see who it was. When the crickety old door swung open and none other than his first-born son stood, he dropped the glass. _Thank Merlin_ it was white wine.  Glass shattered, but it was nothing compared to how Harry’s heart had been broken over and over by his son, a man who didn’t seem to know what he wanted, a boy too broken by the system. Harry didn’t blame James for his flight, not really, but he wished the circumstances never would have gotten desperate enough to warrant it. Merlin knew Harry had dealt with hard shit in his adolescence, but he would never perfectly understand the isolationism of a pansexual teenager in a world that seemed only partially ready to accept him. Most of the people Harry knew, save for the progressives, hadn’t even heard the term “pansexual” before he had thrown it around, discovering the correct way to support a queer teenager, so that was a clear sign.

(Secretly, Harry had had an extremely brief foray into homosexuality, but the world would never know, not unless Draco Malfoy leaked details of the experiment. But Malfoy seemed content in his heterosexual life and Harry was in his, so it was ancient history.)

Harry vaguely heard someone in the background shout, “Reparo!”, but his attention was devoted to James, undivided, rapt. Immediately, he scooped up his baby boy in his arms.

“Harry? What is—” Ginny appeared from the kitchen, where she had been gathering up wine glasses from earlier to set them at the appropriate spots at the dining table. She froze. “James?” It was barely above a whisper.

Ginny joined her husband and son in the embrace,  and the three enjoyed an intimate moment whilst the others convened in the dining room. Hermione set another place at the table between Harry and Ginny’s seats. When the Potters joined the rest, Harry was grinning from ear to ear, and Ginny had dark mascara streaking down her pale, freckled face, a complexion that matched her son's just so.

So that was how James came to dine with his family for the first time in several months. It had been rough, and retelling the pain again and again wasn’t fun, but it got easier each time. Tears glistened on his cheeks, identical to the frost on the browned grass outside, but he wasn’t going to let his anxieties rule him forevermore. It was time to finish this.

“Do the kids know?”

Once the initial story had been laid, a narrative of what led James to escape his life and move to France, this was the first question on everyone’s mind. Disliking the idea of implicating Rose in activities that could get her into trouble, he put his own spin on his version of the truth.

“Rose…” James began, and Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand from under the table. “We ran into each other, completely by chance—Hogsmeade day, it was, and I had been distracted while apparating and ended up near the Shrieking Shack—and, well, she easily could have hexed me into never showing my face again. She had the anger. I forced her to listen, and it worked.

“This happened just over a week ago, by the way. The first Quidditch match this term was the next day, and it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, so I figured I’d stop by. Gryff won—” As most Weasleys and company had been in Gryffindor, nearly everyone grinned and hollered, eagerly displaying their house pride this many years later. The Gryffindor Quidditch legacy continued, as it would seem. Harry and Ginny, however, maintained a fairly neutral expression. Parents of a Slytherin, they had learned quickly to curtail their own house pride. In the end, Al wasn’t at the table, so they cheered along with the others .

“—and by the end of the party in the Gryffindor commons, everyone knew. Lily’s pissed at Rose, but everyone’s just relieved that everything’s back to normal, Al especially.”

Abashed, James stared down at his plate of steak. Far from the warm bread and street-sold food from cart vendors in Paris, this food was nourishing to the soul, to the heart. He almost felt like puking, but in a happy way; his heart was filled with so much love and familiarity of this place, a house that was just as much his home as Godric’s Hollow, that it was near to exploding. It was an excitement, an inexplicable buzz of energy in the air. _Godric_ , he missed England and all its trappings of home.

“There’s more.” It was barely above a whisper, but it hushed the room. James chewed on a bit of meat as he chewed over what to say. What to say.

“I’ve been studying.” James lifted his head, and he looked around at all the expectant eyes, pursed lips. The suspense in this quest for an explanation wasn’t appreciated, and much like his sexually's relationship with the media, it shouldn't have been a big deal, but it was

“It started in Paris,” he continued. “I was sleeping at Lysander Scamander’s apartment. I enjoyed city life when I was with him, but alone, I wasn’t interested. So I took up some classes to occupy myself while he worked, and it turned into something bigger.”

“What subjects were you learning?” Harry inquired, his eyes, bright in passion, only seeing his beautiful boy. He was so intoxicated with his love for James.

“Muggle medicine, actually. It’s horribly redundant and frustrating for someone who can easily do all the work in half the time, but it’s fascinating. I’ve, er, enrolled in St. Mungo’s academy for healing.”

“So you’re planning on staying?” Ginny’s voice sounded so hopeful; slimy guilt shot down James’ stomach like one of Uncle George’s nausea-inducing gummy slugs.

He nodded. “I moved in with Waylon, my old friend from primary school, on Friday. I'm not going anywhere." He grinned. "I guess you're stuck with me, now."

~

The rest of the convivial night went like this: as the hour got later, the bottles got emptier. James nursed his wine slowly, remembering that it was his drunken horniness that had led to his broken heart.  

What he thought was a paranoid buzzing in his ears was an owl tapping softly at the kitchen window. The color drained out of his face when he saw the spotted barn owl, the one with the black dots creating a unibrow across her face.

“Who’s it from, James?” Ginny called from the table.

“Lysander.”

Numbly, he fed the owl, Celia, a treat from a bowl on the counter and sent her on her way. Not trusting his actions around his family. he went outside to read the letter. The ground was cold against his thin trousers, and the frost crunched under his weight, but he ignored it. The ice, internal and external, grounded him, easing him from the panic that was rising in his throat.

As far as he knew, Louis wanted to never see his face again. Ly more amicable, but things hadn’t ended well. James took a deep breath then began to read.

_J,_

_In the time since you returned to the U.K. things have settled down. Louis is the type to hold a grudge, so I wouldn’t recommend Paris for your next holiday. Nevertheless, my relationship with him has been harder the past two weeks than it had ever been before, but it’s a start._

_I am going to be in England in two weeks to visit my parents and to accompany Scorpius Malfoy to his grandmum’s charity ball. Get this—it’s benefitting a LGBT advocacy agency! How great! I'll finally get a chance to wear that suit again, the nice one you bought me._

_Would you like to like to get drinks when I’m in town? As friends? The Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron sound wonderful after all this French shit I’ve been eating since I moved here._

_I wish you would’ve talked to me before taking off. We never did define what we were, even after all those months, but I thought we were in this together. We need closure. I want to talk. I miss your voice, I miss your kiss, I miss you._

_Ly_

James sat there for a long time, thinking. He awoke every morning thinking he was in Ly’s bed, denying the winter temperatures permeating in through the window by snuggling even closer into Ly’s body. It was a past lifetime, but it was all so vivid still.

He remembered spritzing Ly with that intoxicating cologne potion, popping mints from the Paris Honeydukes into Ly’s mouth to counteract the taste of tobacco. Honeydukes mints and cigarettes, that’s what Ly always smelled like. He remembered the contrast of their skin when they were pressed up against each other, pale pale pale, creamy and freckled, against darker skin, a brown closer to Rolf's complexion than Luna's. He remembered drinking the fine mead, the stuff James’ stolen inheritance could afford them. Ly would stay up late after a long day of work to quiz James on vocabulary for his classes, in both English and French, and create inane mnemonic devices relating to creatures James had never heard of. There was a distinct difference between Ly’s depressed handwriting and his blissful script; this letter was neither of the two, but it was so him that a lump formed in James’ throat.  It was the perfect life, but it was a rushed dream, painted on borrowed time.

And yet, it was almost too perfect to be believable. James recalled all the fights he had witnessed between Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. Marriage is work, love is not easy, that’s what every adult, wise from experience, had told him. Eight months in, and there had been no fights, no antagonism, no silent unhappiness. They just seemed to sync. It was when Louis had come back from his extended trip to Venice that problems arose. James came home from his tutorial one Friday with a bag of groceries, prepared to cook Ly a nice dinner since it had been a stressful work week, to find Louis sitting on a bench outside the building in the cold, reading a novel written in Ancient Latin, the pretentious prick.

Maybe it was one step removed from fuckbuddies and it felt like a long sleepover, but some spark had ignited James’ heart in a way he never really got the chance to express. By the time Ly had returned from work, James was long gone, his bags packed and aboard the train to the nearest Portkey station. He should have known it would end like that. The romance of Paris cumulated up and up until it overflowed; James was the superfluous excess that never could survive there.

“James? Are you alright?” Ginny appeared by the door, cheeks flushed from the winter wind twirling her long hair around.

He stood mechanically and walked toward his mum, letting his tears melt into his face in the cold. She took his hand and led him into the Burrow, where the party had congregated around the fireplace in the living room. James tossed the parchment into the fire and watched the flames eat away at the last remaining vestige to whoever the hell James had been when he was with Ly.

Wordlessly, he walked into the kitchen and fixed himself some tea, just like Grandmum Molly made for him. After living for nearly a year in Paris, Muggle ways were more second nature to him than they ever had been before, and it relaxed him to follow through the mechanical procedures.

He drank the tea in silence, willing himself calm. The adults were laughing and narrating humorous and serious anecdotes alike, but he could also hear whispered remarks about himself. Nevertheless, he let the tea, sweetened but not diluted with milk, wash his throat of loving affirmations and bitterness alike, a harsh wave scraping against the rocky shore.

"I take it your studies weren't the only reason for your return."

Harry stood in the doorway, holding an empty wine glass. Setting it down with a small clatter, he sat opposite James, staying quiet to let his son speak.

"Lysander and I... We were something, for a while. Though I didn't know it until it was over, I wanted it to be more. And now... Louis is back.”

“Sometimes relationships run their course. Just because a relationship isn’t permanent doesn’t mean it was a failure.”

“Dad, you married the girl you’ve been dating since you were sixteen.”

Harry pointed out that he and Ginny had split up twice, but they always found their way back to one another. “She is the only one for me, but that doesn’t mean Lysander is the only one for you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

 


	7. February 25th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the charity ball, and there's a strange tension between Scorpius and Lysander.

Malfoy Manor had seen better days.

In the years before the war, it had been equitable to a museum of the Dark Arts. Perhaps that was the reason it was so admired by the Death Eaters and quickly became the headquarters for their secret society. The Dark Lord had always chosen locations to meet that were so near and dear to him, reminders of the past he had chosen to eradicate so thoroughly. The Manor, however, overflowed with rich history, namely Slytherin and Pureblood. A dirty history, marked less by valor and gold than by blood sinking into the earth, nooses tied tight.

The days immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts were chaotic indeed. As Lucius stood on the pyre, waiting for his sentence, Narcissa, ever so thoughtful of heritage, made arrangements. Despite the Malfoys’ ill repute with the goblins of Gringotts, she managed to lock up the most valuable artifacts and heirlooms.

After the scare had blown over, the Malfoys had the option of unpacking their belongings from the stuffy vault, but for the most part, they declined. A heavy path to reform was in order and would be easier without inflammatory history blocking up the corridors. The portraits, however, were returned to their rightful place, as well as the artwork: scenes of the Great Lake at Hogwarts melting into the countryside of Scotland, ballerina dancers in arabesque, moving in rhythm with Salazar Slytherin's favorite orchestra.

Through it all, the Manor remained a haven of Wizarding couture, somehow never declining in relevance to the socialite Wizards and Witches across Europe.

Scorpius had always been terrified of the Manor in all its marble glory and dark corners. He was always the dandelion in the garden of ripe roses, out of place in a place so grand as this. Now, he moved through it gracefully, not hesitating. Though a Slytherin through and through, he often struggled to reconcile his family's strong history with his own values, but for once, they overlapped perfectly. A Malfoy hosting a ball for a gay rights organization? Narcissa's brilliance notwithstanding, it was unthinkable. Maybe it was a testament to the times, or a testament to Narcissa's affection for her grandson.

The west wing's hallways were a perfect circle, unobtrusive doorways leading into libraries and drawing rooms as well as connecting it to the rest of the home. The outer sides of the hallway housed portraits of every male Malfoy; on the inner wall were the females.

Once, while reading through family files on one dreadfully frigid Christmas holiday, Scorpius discovered his great great great uncle Francis, a man burned out of the family line due to his “shockingly intimate” relations with his close friend Marcus. This was only one of many occurrences in the elitist scene: appearances were everything, like some ancient royalty.

Now, walking into his grandmum’s bedroom, he was almost grateful for the struggle, the years of joy from Lysander's grin followed by apprehension from his family: the portraits staring as he walked to the library to work on his summer assignments, grilling questions from Aunt So-and-so and Grandfather Lucius. It was almost worth the feeling of satisfaction, the sun that couldn't seem to leave his face.

Almost.

Narcissa had aged gracefully, not that anyone would expect any less from her. Her hair, once identical to that of Cruella de Vil, was now entirely silver. She wore a luscious black gown that was altogether very reminiscent of _Madame X_. Her eyes, blue as they come, gleamed upon catching sight of Scorpius, and she folded him into a deep, warm embrace.  

“You look so much your father did at your age. There is more light in your eyes; his always reflected the gloom of war just so.”

A _whoosh_ sounded from the corridor, and a minute later, in walked Lysander Scamander. He wore a black suit, plain in style but exquisite in detail. The shirt he wore underneath was cream, champagne, a color perfectly matched to Scorpius’ hair.

All at once, Scorpius fell in love once again.

“Hello, Narcissa. It’s so wonderful to see you again, after so long.”

Scorpius forgot. Long ago, his father’s work had intersected with Mr. Rolf Scamander’s, and with Luna in Norway on trip for her studies, Rolf had brought his young twins, no more than seven years old, to the Manor. Draco had had no qualms about it; instead, he let the boys play with Scorpius under the watchful eyes of his mother and wife. Scorpius had been too young to remember, and in yearning for that lifetime-long love, he sometimes wished he did.

Narcissa wanted to finish her makeup, so she shooed the boys out. They walked to the kitchen, where a pizza was sitting, warm and already sliced, and dug in.

Lysander turned to him, offering up a small, pleased smile, unaware of the grease shining on his lips, catching the light. “How are you?”

Scorpius replied with a breathy, “Grand, how are you?”

Ly raked a hand through his hair. “Been better, been worse. I hope 6th year isn’t kicking your arse, because it totally did mine. All those NEWT classes.”

“They are, but only because I have high standards. Rose and I are in a perpetual race to oneup each other.”

“Ambitious.” Lysander’s voice held a tone of appraisal, and it wasn’t until that moment that Scorpius realized he was hoping for approval. He beamed.

“I am a Slytherin, after all.”

Ly’s eyes got distant for a brief moment. “It’s strange…” Here he ran his fingers along the cold granite of the countertop, tapping out the beat of a song by his favorite French Wizarding group. He and Louis had seen them live in England once, and their seats had been phenomenal, but that had been a strange night, the first night they slept together.

Lysander gathered his thoughts. “It's strange how little houses matter after Hogwarts.”

“There are people who want them eradicated, you know. But the prejudice is all but gone, and it’s tradition. And I don’t even want to begin thinking about how Hogwarts Quidditch would have to be restructured.”

“You should have seen how livid Uncle Ron was when the Ministry threw out the 150 points for catching the snitch.”

“It’s thrown everyone for a loop, but I like a challenge.” Scorpius smirked. “But Gryffindor beat us in our latest game, so I’m not one to talk.”

Ly raised his eyebrows. “Listen, we can talk about Quidditch anytime we want over owl. Why am I here?”

“I thought you would appreciate it, you know, the cause. You didn’t have to come, but I knew you’d be in town at the right time…”

“The cause is great, but there are enough Weasley kids who would have been interested as well. Why me?”

“I…”

“Ah, Scorpius. I have been looking for you. The benefit starts in twenty minutes, so be in the ballroom in fifteen." Astoria stood in the doorway wearing a deep purple dressing gown, full makeup, and hair in wide curlers. “I must finish getting ready. Lysander, you look well.”

This was a lie, obvious as the ostentatious decor of the house. Too many beautiful boys, coming and leaving at whim, had fucked with Lysander’s head, and the cigarettes he smoked amplified it, though he knew how bad for him they were. The smokes and the boys. But Astoria was polite, and she was not unkind. She had been there to nurse Draco’s wounds, inside and out, and knew the game well.

At the same time, denial was a close friend to anguish. That, and placebo. It was a bit foolish, Astoria knew, but when Draco’s demons had come to haunt him, night after night, she’d taken the stance that hoping for the best would naturally cause conditions to improve. Now, she did the same with Lysander. Whether or not Scorpius had played with him when they were children (and early on, he often didn’t) Lysander had spent many a days in Malfoy Manor growing up, just as if he were Scorpius’ best mate. She did care for the boy.

So Astoria hoped, and the boys left, both thinking of the question Lysander had posed. It was an awkward one, and neither were in a place to spill their darkest secrets. With confession came irrevocability, after all.

Lysander and Scorpius walked around in mild awkwardness. They both busied their minds with the fascinating works of art and history, casually displayed like a child’s crafting project. Half an hour later, they reached the ballroom, stiff from their silence. Before they had a chance to breathe, Scorpius was dragged to and fro by one business partner or family friend; Lysander followed, unsure of himself. It was a big party filled with all sorts of people he didn't know, so he just let his natural breeziness carry him through the invisible tension roping around his nerves.

There were keynote speakers and champagne toasts, but Lysander found it all so dreadfully dull. Every time a dramatic coming out story was posed, he rolled his eyes. True equality would never be possible if the gay youth were commodified and treated as little zoo animals.

"Come on," he whispered to Scorpius. His fingers were twitching in that telling way; he wanted a smoke, wanted one now, with Scorpius, in this big fancy house that was familiar in vague memory, that was shining in all its glamour, a beacon for the happy and the deranged.

And Scorpius? He followed wordlessly. The awkwardness was gone, stripped from them when they entered this bizarre world. It was enough.

However, they only got five feet before someone stopped them. A reporter, from the looks. He was dressed rather plainly in all black, but wore beautiful glasses, geometric in architecture and gilded with gold and mother of pearl.

“Might I take your picture? It’s for Witch Weekly.”

Limelight wasn’t a big deal to Scorpius, being a Malfoy and living in the Manor. So he complied, creating a mask of amiable calm, a slight smile. It was his generic pose. Lysander slunk to the nearby table of hors d’oeuvres. He sipped from a flute of champagne, good stuff; he wished to down it all in one go, but even he knew appearances were everything. He kept up the game.  

As if by magic, at precisely the moment the reporter snapped the photo, the room lit up with jazzy music. From the stage, a band played a ragtime remix of a popular Weird Sisters song. Although the song was often played on Lysander’s iPod, it sounded offbeat at an event like this, with millionaires, instead of blue-haired teenagers, attending.  

“I love this song!” Disregarding the photographer entirely, Scorpius turned to Lysander. “Let’s dance!”

Soon enough, the marble floor was filled with clicking heels and leather brogues. A young child weaved throughout the groups, her robins egg blue tulle robes swishing against guests’ calves as she searched for her parents with natural ease.

Scorpius had started formal ballroom dancing lessons at the age of seven for a wedding he was to attend. His body moved like all it was meant for was the classical, the romantic, but his limbs were awkward during the fast-paced songs. Years of Hogwarts common room parties hadn’t trained him any better, but he still loved it all the same.

Lysander, on the other hand, always seemed to move with casual grace, no matter what he was doing. Maybe he had learned his poise from eternally pretentious French Louis, who had this air of cultured superiority about him. Lysander romanticized it, but it was not a virtue.

Initially, Scorpius tried to keep up with Lysander’s slick moves, but he was no match. So he closed his eyes and let the blaring saxophones melt into his heart. The rhythm changed and faded in and out, around their ears and hearts and fancy dress shoes.

It must’ve been hours. By the end of it, Scorpius’ feet ached, and he was acutely aware of a stabbing pain on the side of his left foot,where there was a pebble lodged in his shoe. He kept trying to shake it loose, but those movements looked unnatural and strange. The pebble was ruining the whole vibe, honestly, so he stopped paying attention to it.

Finally, at the end of a song from The Sinclairs, a bluegrass Wizard band, Scorpius made to leave the dance floor, motioning for Lysander to follow. They wove through the witches and wizards of status, all wearing brightly colored robes, and were not stopped. Scorpius still had that damn rock in his shoe, but he didn’t stop to remove it. He led Lysander down a corridor and up some stairs to a set of ornate glass doors facing outside.

That balcony was the best in the Manor, in Scorpius’ opinion. It was positioned at the front so it overlooked the wide expanse of the Manor’s acreage, all rolling green hills and a sizable fish pond that glistened black in the moonlight, dark as the Great Lake at Hogwarts.

“I’d kill for a view like this.”

“Whenever I stay here, I leave a nice plush chair up here and come out at night. Being a Malfoy, especially at the Manor, is so sensationalist sometimes, so this is my peace.”

They leaned against the rail. Lysander’s fingers tapped against the iron to the beat of the pulsing beat heard from below, and he closed his eyes to the breeze. The rhythm was familiar to Scorpius, and after a moment, he remembered that it was a Stevie Nicks song. Rose had been playing it once when he’d been at the Burrow with Al.

_Sings a song / sounds like she’s singin’ / whoo, baby, whoo._

Scorpius didn’t know why or how he recalled that random memory. It was just him and Rose, when they were thirteen, listening to Rose’s strange Muggle vinyls in the sitting room as Al showered the mud off him four stories above. Their Quidditch game with the rest of the family had been rough, and it had rained the day prior. Rose’s mum had bought her the turntable for her birthday, she’d said, and shared her record collection.

Never mind that. Scorpius refocused his energy on Ly.

“When Lorcan and I were younger, our parents would take us camping—in our backyard, across the country, Belgium, and even once in Estonia. We would watch the stars and all the microscopic creatures.

“You know, sometimes I used to think about you, before I knew you. When you were just the son of my dad’s colleague. My parents taught Lorcan and I the constellations, being in the country so often, and naturally that led to the Blacks, and the Malfoys. There’s one for you, and for your dad, and so many others.”

“I think I see Orion’s belt?”

Lysander nodded. “And to the left, above it, is the Gemini constellation. Castor and Pollux, the twins. I have a tattoo of that one, on my forearm. I got it right after Lorcan and I turned of age.”

Lysander shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Scorpius didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t any different that what was in the sky, save for the lines connecting the dots. That was always the most important part, connecting the dots.

“I like to think it’s meant to remind me not to take everything so seriously, that we are all just stars in the sky, but I don’t think it’s working.”

“Are you doing alright? After all the shit with James and Louis?”

“Them? Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Rose mentioned it, a little. She and James are close again, weird as that is.”

A frosty breeze flew by, and Lysander put his coat back on. He shivered. “James is a great person.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there.”

“I don’t know if I made a horrible mistake.”

“And Louis? I remember how you two were at during my birthday party.”

“Louis….I don’t know.”

They stood there for a few minutes, soaking in the crisp, bright air.

“I just….My relationship with Louis is crumbling beneath me, and James won’t talk to me, and…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?

They were close now. Maybe it was the magnetism of warm bodies on a winter night, or maybe that was just their excuse. Scorpius could smell the champagne on Lysander’s breath, and, rolling on the balls of his feet, he dimly registered that the pebble embedded into the sole of his foot was still there. Still there.

He could kiss Lysander. It would be easy. It was everything he had dreamed of, once.

Lysander was thinking the same thing. How he ached to feel that pull, sensual desire with no strings, no complications.

It would be easy.

Scorpius turned away; he looked into space. Reflected in the waxing moon was Albus, burned by his own actions. He would not make the same mistakes as those around him.

He wouldn’t cheat like Albus.

He wouldn’t run like James.

“I… I used to fancy you, Ly. If I’m honest.” He wanted to say more, to make Lysander understand, to save this friendship, but everything felt inadequate. He glanced up at the stars, eyes glazing past Gemini. Lysander.

“Scorpius.” Lysander touched his wrist, light and warm.

Scorpius made the mistake of meeting Ly’s gaze. The darkness of those eyes sucked him in like a black hole; the gravity was too great to fight. He felt Ly’s breath on his mouth.

Gravity dictated the planets and the stars, but not the actions of humans on Earth. Gravity controlled Gemini up there in the sky, and maybe it affected Lysander, who was forever tethered to the constellations, but it could not rule over a Malfoy.

Scorpius turned away, and he left Lysander standing there, alone on the balcony. Suddenly that surround sound bass felt isolating and intrusive to Lysander. Once Scorpius was out of sight, he collapsed against the iron railing and sat there in the dark, thinking over the mess that had become his love life.

 


	8. February 27th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next Monday, Rose and Scorpius discuss the drama during Transfiguration class.

Right before transfiguration class was due to start the next Monday, Headmistress McGonagall stormed in, her velvety robes floating behind her. Professor Lindsay Howard looked up from her desk, where she was arranging notes, and adjusted her glasses.

“She sure knows how to make it dramatic,” Scorpius muttered.

“I don’t think she has any other setting.”

Scorpius looked over at Rose and rolled his eyes, catching eye contact with her as he did so.

“So…” Rose rose her eyebrows. “Are you gonna tell me what happened on Saturday?”

“I think Howard is about to start.”

“Scorpius….”

“Class, get out your notes from last week. If you’ll remember, on Friday we were discussing Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration.”

Rose’s parchment was neatly labeled CONJURING SPELLS at the top in purple ink. Her scrawl was occasionally compared to ancient runes, but at least it was organized. Scorpius’ notes, on the other hand, were indecipherable: his perfect handwriting ran across the page, sans margins, in dense, wobbly lines.

From the back of the room: “One day... I’m going to be the first person to conjure food.”

Al leaned against the doorway, his thumb in the pocket of some impossible pants that looked like they belonged in the eighties.

“Mister Potter,” McGonagall began, “I expect that you understand that is theoretically impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Headmistress. This is a _magic_ school.”

“Perhaps you should instead be thinking of how to to conjure up the ten house points you lost for being late.”

“Class hasn’t even started yet!”

With one piercing glare, McGonagall shut him up. As he slunk to his seat, he passed by Rose and Scorpius and whispered, “if I'd known McGonagall was observing today, I would have made my entrance more dramatic. Something to make Uncle George proud.”

“Oh, stop pouting, Al. Between the three of you, I have had enough drama from the Potter kids.” Rose glared at him, but then, feeling bad, she gave him a sort of half smile.

“Good morning,” said Professor Howard. “Last week you learned the theory for simple conjurations; today we will begin with bird conjurations. While I encourage you to use your peers if you’re having trouble, I should not hear other conversations. I’ll be walking around to evaluate your progress and offer help, and I’m sure Minerva will be willing to answer any questions as well.”

“ _Avis_ ,” Rose inflected. It didn’t work, so she tried again and again until she was able to perform the spell successfully.

“How’re you doing?” she asked Scorpius.

A thin layer of sweat was collecting on his hairline. “Oh, yeah, I’m doing well.”

“You look just like you did when I asked you about Saturday a little while ago.” Rose fought a laugh. “I’m not sure I believe you when you say nothing bad happened.”

“ _Avis_.” Unsuccessful. Distracted. “It’s my problem. You were the one so adamant we not get involved in Al’s drama nearly two months ago. What happened to that?”

“I’m curious, that’s all.” Rose shrugged, holding her wand aloft to add to the illusion of productivity. “I read the letter you sent Ly, I know the history he has with you and with James and with Louis, and now I just want to know how it’s ending.”

Instead of replying, Scorpius attempted the spell again. This time, a blue bird appeared, chirping a beautiful melody.

“Tell me, don’t tell me, but just know this, Scorpius: I’m not asking for petty gossip. This affects my family. But if you’re embarrassed or bashful, I guess I understand.”

Scorpius sighed. “It’s a wonder we aren’t the talk of _Witch Weekly_ tabloid columns.”

Figuring she had pushed him far enough, Rose went back to her work.

After a while, the classroom was peppered with little birds of all types. They flew in wide arcs, swooping from the sloping ceiling to the tops of students' heads. By the time Scorpius spoke again, two students had already been pooped on. Sticky white glop rained down, and Rose and Scorpius had to shift over to avoid being hit. 

“We almost kissed.”

Rose looked at him for one hard moment, trying to figure this out. She wasn’t embarrassed—this had nothing to do with her—but still she could feel the heat rising up into her ears.

“Almost?”

“Ly is really fucked up over James and Louis. He didn’t want me.”

“And you wanted him?”

“I… I wanted a ghost, Rose. From the moment I saw him again all my feelings were back in full swing. And, Merlin, all night I wanted to trust it, but I can’t help but feel like none of it is real.”

“I don’t think any of us are the same people we were a year ago or two years ago or so. And if living in Paris has changed Lysander as much as it’s changed James, your feelings might be for a Lysander that only exists in the past.”

“He’s had a full metamorphosis of thought since he graduated, and I’ve seen it firsthand in his letters.”

“Have you spoken to him since the benefit?”

“I got a letter this morning at breakfast, but I was planning on waiting until I was alone to read it.”

“Read it now.”

Rose felt her gaze travel to Scorpius' arse as he pulled the parchment from his back pocket, and she quickly looked away. He skimmed the letter, and she just stood there, absently waving her wand around to create the illusion of productivity.

“Louis is in Austria; it took even less time for him to get the hell out of dodge than I expected. Supposedly it’s for work, but it’s mighty convenient: come back in time to reclaim Ly, then leave as soon as he’s asserted his dominance.”

“Mr. Malfoy! Are you working hard or hardly working?” Professor Howard called, walking towards them.

Scorpius rolled his eyes at Rose and performed the spell again. A beautiful black bird popped out, black plumage with chartreuse tail feathers and an orange beak. It looked angry, but maybe Scorpius was just projecting.

“In other news,” Scorpius continued, letting his ire go with a deep breath, “Teddy and Victoire are engaged to be married. I hope they’re celebrating a long engagement, otherwise I dunno what Louis will do when he has to return to France for the wedding.”

“Oh! I’ll have to owl them later, then. I always knew they were made to be together…. So is Louis officially out of the picture? It sounds awfully soon for Lysander just to be throwing it all out, after everything.”

“Lysander is usually so easy to read but today… he just seems unsure. Have you talked to James about it?”

“Yeah, actually; he owled me last Thursday to update me on the Weasley family dinner he went to. He seems torn up about it, but he has been in a vulnerable place lately.”

“I just… I know it’s not my fault, not any of it, and I know that their happiness is not my responsibility, but I wish there was something I could do. Maybe we could, I don’t know, arrange for them to get back together somehow?”

Rose pictured herself reaching over and squeezing his hand, or giving him a pat on the back, but it was all so awkward. “Like a party?”

“Yeah…. but I don’t want to play fate like that. Letting them deal with heartbreak on their own would probably be for the best, right? Or… ”

“I think if you’re unsure, it’s best to do nothing.” Rose gave Scorpius a sage little smile.

“Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Weasley! If you two do not stop talking, I’ll have no choice but to give you detention!” Headmistress McGonagall came forward from behind and glared as only McGonagall could. “That is something I never anticipated to say,” she muttered to herself.

“Sorry, Headmistress,” Rose said at once.

“We won’t do it again.”

“I’ll see to that. Now, do go on. I can only assume you had mastered the spell so completely that you were _bored_.”

With a daunting level of pressure and shame, Scorpius did the spell first, then Rose. They both went without a hitch, to the relief of nearly everyone in the room. A sour Headmistress was not good for anyone.

“Well done, both of you. Ms. Weasley, you seem to have taken after your mother; very bright indeed. And Mr. Malfoy—excellent work. Your father was proficient in this spell.” McGonagall gave a little frown.

No one at Hogwarts ever really mentioned Scorpius’ dad around him anymore. People had moved on, and eventually they noticed how different he was from young Draco. Even if few knew the details of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower that McGonagall was alluding to, there was quite a bit of tension in the room.

“It’s wonderful to see that you are as…hardworking as he was,” she concluded, then turned to leave.

“Lindsay, you have an extraordinary class. I’ll see you at dinner. And the rest of you… keep up the good work.”

With her cloak blowing out behind her, and a million whispers following it, McGonagall sashayed into the corridor.

“Right, then,” said Professor Howard. “There’s not much time left. Let’s gather all these birds in those cages and bring them to Care of Magical Creatures.”

~

Rose had an divination test right after lunch, so she ate quickly and left to study in the library. It was her easiest class since it wasn’t NEWT level, but she hadn’t yet begun to revise notes that were weeks old. She opened up her periwinkle folder and took out parchment detailing tarot card readings.

A few minutes later, Al came up to her, which was a sight unto itself. He was rarely seen doing any academic activity outside of class, but somehow he seemed to make decent marks. He slid into the chair opposite hers and asked, “Were you at breakfast?”

“No, I overslept—I was up late with Violet. Grabbed an apple from the Gryffindor Commons. Why?”

“I was just in the Owlery, and you got mail. One of them is the invitation, ‘cause I got one too, and Scorpius, but I’m not sure about the other one.”

The invitation was enclosed in an ivory envelope. _Edward “Teddy” Lupin and Victoire Weasley welcome you to an engagement reception on Saturday, 11 March._ Pasted on the cardstock was a picture of the two arm in arm and twirling around. It rather reminded Rose of the picture of Uncle Harry’s parents that was framed in the Potters’ living room.

“They’re so lovely. I’m probably going to be bawling at their wedding.”

Rose picked up the letter. “It’s from Teddy.” She unfolded it, and Al read over her shoulder.

_Dearest Rose,_

_Something has come up. As I’m sure you’re aware, Louis is back in Paris with Lysander Scamander. However, he had left for business in Austria, and upon returning, he was splinched fairly badly. Vic and Dom and his parents are at the Pendragon Hospital in Paris with him right now._

_When I was at the hospital with them earlier today, Lysander told me that their relationship was on the rocks, and Lou’s siblings confirmed it. They were having a row and he tried to apparate, that’s what Lysander said. He’s in stable condition, but he’s pretty banged up._

_Right now Louis has asked that only his immediate family visit because he doesn’t want the spectacle that comes with all you Weasleys. They say he should only be in the hospital for a few days so the healers can monitor his vitals and make sure his injuries heal properly._

_I do hope your studies are going well. I can’t wait to see you at the engagement party!_

_Teddy_

“Damn,” Al said. “As if things couldn’t get worse for that lot.”

“He said Louis will only be staying in the hospital for a few days. He’ll be at the engagement party, no doubt about it. Aunt Fleur has probably taken over the planning, and knowing her, I’d bet the Scamanders are being invited.”

“Rose, Louis might be a little pretentious, but he would never start a scene at his sister’s engagement party.”

“I guess we have nothing to worry about, then.” Rose shrugged. “How are things with you?”

“I’ve sworn off girls until graduation.”

“You can’t possibly stick to that. That’s over a year away!”

“You saw how well I handled my last relationship. Gonna try to work on myself and become friends with Emilie and Violet.”

“With Violet, I could see you being close with again, especially considering how often she’s with me,” Rose reasoned. “Emilie, though…it would take a lot for her to forgive you, let alone start any kind of relationship.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” Al grinned, but the smile slipped. “I’ve got to try Rose. I just have to, okay?”

“No, I get it.”

“Speaking of romance, today at breakfast I heard some of the girls in my House saying you and Scorpius would make a good couple.”

“Are you still on that? Don’t you remember the New Years party, when you drunkenly tried to set us up?”

“Hey, I was only tipsy.”

“You were drunk. If something’s gonna happen there, it’ll happen when it wants to. I don’t see the point of speculation.”

“So you admit you’re open to the possibility?”

“Al, I have a divination exam in thirty minutes. Instead of talking up your best friend to me, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me revise my notes.”

“Okay; I’ve spent too much time in this library as is. Just keep me posted!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Now, back to tarot cards…

 


	9. March 11th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Teddy and Victoire's engagement party!

“So I usually have control over my transformations, but when my emotions are running wild, it’s not something I’m thinking about. Victoire comes back from the bathroom, and my hair is suddenly pink. She’s immediately suspicious, but I’m safe because she asks me if I’ve ingested some new Weasley Wizard Wheezes product…”

Teddy was in the middle of his story on how he proposed to Victoire. He had, of course, attempted on Valentine's Day, but that night had ended with them soaking wet without wands in the middle of nowhere, so the romance had all fizzled out.

“…And as if that’s not enough, it’s some bloke’s ninetieth birthday two tables over from us. So I’m sitting there, just about to reach into my pocket for the ring, and the waiters have these enchanted frogs singing at the top of their amphibious lungs.” Victoire, anticipating what was to come, giggled. “As soon as the hooplah with the old man calms down, I stand on top of my seat to get everyone’s attention, then immediately jump to the floor and get down on one knee, which, for the record, was incredibly painful since I had dance class the night before…”

Teddy and Vic kept the party fairly casual. Since March was too early in the year for an outdoor gathering, they created a tent of sheer textile and magicked the insides warm. Despite having grown up with magic, Rose found it strange to be looking out at the cool landscape from a warm perspective. She would exit the tent to use the loo and remember why she brought her cloak, which was neatly wrapped around her chair, in the first place.

Rose perused the potluck tables, picking up a chicken leg and scooping some fruit salad onto a thick paper plate. She rejoined her table, where Al, Scorpius, and Lysander sat. Rose wanted to be with James, to make up for lost time, but he was sitting with Lily, who had not stopped giving Rose dagger eyes as sharp as her eyes were bright. Louis was sitting at the big table with Andromeda Tonks and Victoire’s family; everyone was currently playing nice and respectful, but Rose was waiting in the back of her mind for the tension to unfold.

“Valentine’s Day is too cliche, anyway. After that failed, I picked the most important day to us: the day of our first date. And while we’re at it, I might as well say that Victoire and I have been looking at flats. We're moving in together!”

“With Louis living in France and Vic moving out, that house is really gonna seem big, huh?” Al said.

“I was talking to Molly earlier, and she said that Bill and Fleur are going traveling. So maybe Dom with move in with someone? I don’t think she would want to stay at home with everyone else gone.” Rose wasn’t a big gossip, but rumours and slander traveled quickly in such a big family.

“Well, I need a new roommate, so if any of you know someone who is looking, let me know.” Lysander’s bold implication caught the attention of the whole table.

“Are you saying—”

“Scorpius, I don’t want to talk about it, but no, I’m not living in France anymore. Molly and Arthur have been very kind to let me stay here at the Burrow, but it is only temporary.”

“Merlin, in this family, it’s like networking. We’ll find someone for you, Lysander. The only thing that comes to mind…Fred’s graduating this year, so you can ask him what he plans on doing post-grad,” Rose mused.

“I know you don’t know her well, but Dom could be a viable option, if she doesn’t move in with Louis. They always were close, but maybe because from a young age Victoire was always around Teddy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. Lorcan’s starting up business with my mum, so I can’t live with him.” Lysander looked across the room to find his brother, who had been quietly joking with Fred. “What are twins good for, anyway?”  

“Twins?” Lorcan asked, sneaking up beside Lysander. “Dancing, I suppose. Come on; the DJ is starting up.”

Over the next few minutes, Rose watched as her friends and family all left to find dance partners and circles to show off their moves in. Lorcan, unsurprisingly, was phenomenal. His trainers dug into the cool grass, creating patterns of wear in the ground like snow angels. Rolf, his father, was the son of a renowned theatre dancer from London, a woman so in love with the magic of art and of life that she fell in love with a Wizard. Lorcan didn’t know much about his Grandma Ruth, but Lysander had spent summers digging in the attic of Rolf’s family home and had found photo albums, Muggle and Wizard alike.

Rose sat at the table for a while, people watching. Her eyes lit up when she saw her relatives betray idiosyncrasies Rose had come love them for: Aunt Angelina always laughed into Uncle George’s shoulder when he told a joke, for instance, and Lucy danced with her arms in the air, eyes closed as if any number of deities were singing to her through the music.

Rose watched as Lily stood up from her own table, leaving just James, until he stood up and walked over to Al. Lily touched up her ruby red lipstick then sauntered over to Rose.

“Do you mind if we talk?”

“Did James send you over here?”

Lily crossed her arms. “So what if he did?” She sighed. “Let’s dance.”

They walked to the center of all the redheads. A Lana Del Rey remix was playing, but Rose didn’t get what was relevant about a summertime sadness in the middle of March. Lily’s hips swayed in time with the beat.

“Look, I’m sorry I was mad at you about James.”

“So you’re just… over it?”

“He’s gonna become a healer! It’s just… James has moved on. He’s sad, but that’s because of Lysander. It’s unfair and unjustified of me to be upset about something he’s trying to put behind him, you know?”

“That’s really mature of you, Lily.”

Lily hugged Rose, which was nearly unprecedented. “Yeah, well, spirit of love and all.”

“When we joked about Teddy one day joining the family? It’s really gonna happen!”

“Rose, I’m shocked you don’t already consider me part of the family!” Teddy called from a few Weasleys over, where he was grooving with Victoire and Dom. Rose could barely hear him over the Taylor Swift blasting from the floating stereos.

“I meant officially, you know that!”

Taylor Swift faded out, and Fleetwood Mac faded in. It was Warm Ways, from their self-titled record, Rose’s favorite. She sought out Scorpius in the crowd, recalling the awkward day a few years ago when Rose and Scorpius had listened to Stevie belt out her tunes at the Burrow.

He caught her eye and began to make his way through the dancers.

“I’m not familiar with this one, but I recognize her voice. Ethereal,” Scorpius noted. “Care to dance?”

“Sure.” Scorpius put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her back. The intimacy was weird only because it was new. They had never upheld any level of closeness near to this, even in all their scheming and arguing.

“I have to apologize: I’m not terribly good at dancing…” Scorpius looked to the side, he looked down, he didn’t know where to look. He looked at Rose.

“Do you remember that day with the records?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that a couple weeks ago. Heard one of her songs at the benefit and it brought me back.”

“Are you still worried about everything that happened that night?”

“Look around.”

Most people were dancing close: the parents, the young couples, siblings and cousins. Louis was dancing with Dom, Victoire with Teddy, Ron with Hermione, Lorcan with Lucy.

Lysander and James were off to the side, sitting near the potluck buffet. James played with the bunch of grapes on his plate as Lysander placed his hand on James’ shoulder.

“It looks like everything’s gonna be alright.” Lysander smiled at her.

“What… exactly is this, Malfoy?”

“I think we make a great team.”

Rose smiled back, all shy in sincere like she never usually was. “Spirit of love, and all?”

“Yeah. Still gonna get better marks than you, though.”

“We’ll see.”

~

After a while of dancing, Rose got tired, so she went to sit at the table with her family. As she swiped a butterbeer off the drinks table, she overheard Aunt Ginny talking to her dad.

“He’s been Al’s best mate since their second year! I don’t see what the problem is. You know as well as I do Draco— ”

“This isn’t about Draco. If it was, I know Harry would never have allowed that boy to stay over with Al. Rose and Scorpius are the same age ‘Mione and I were when we started going, and you and Harry…”

“She’s dated other boys before, Ron.”

“Were you watching them dance? I dunno; this time it seems different. Call it intuition.”

Ginny laughed. “Ron, you have no such thing as intuition when it comes to romance. I know for a fact they weren’t together at the beginning of the party. Let it play out before you get worried, yeah?”

Rose walked up and took a seat. “Hey.” Ginny gave Ron a look.

“Hullo, Rosie. So, where’s Violet? Thought she’d be here with you.”

“She had a… family obligation.”

In reality, Violet had told Rose, “I think I’ve done enough damage in your family,” which Rose couldn’t really dispute. But Rose was trying to be more optimistic, so she told herself they’d get through it with enough time, and hopefully by the time the wedding rolled around.

“Well, she knows she’s always welcome at our house.”

Rose nodded.

“So,” Ginny said, with a devious grin on her face. “I noticed you and Scorpius Malfoy earlier.”

“We were just dancing, Aunt Ginny.”

She hugged Rose tight around the shoulders. “I’m happy for you two. He’s a great guy.”

“Right, yeah, uh….I see Al over there, all alone. I should probably go keep him company. You can finish the butterbeer.”

Rose hurried over to Al, but just as she approached, so did Scorpius. She’d be hearing a lot from her family about him in the coming weeks.

Scorpius slid beside her and took her hand in his. Al looked at the two of them, then he laughed. “I fucking knew it."

“Come on, let’s dance,” Scorpius shouted.

The Weasleys sure did love to dance.


End file.
